As I try to work through this, I found myself checking out her Facebook page. I have met her and seen pho

I look at her face and feel bad that she believes I have caused her pain. But whatever is wrong inside the perfect life she projects is not my fault. I am, at most, a symptom of something that's between her and her husband. I am not in that marriage, that household, or that circle of friends.
In fact, I am about to separate my whites from my colors and change my sheets before going to bed. I don't see what there is about me -- fat and 50+ -- that could make this pretty balletomane and stay-at-home mom with the affluent family and accomplished circle of friends unhappy. I wish she would stop scapegoating me and let me have my friend back.
Not that I don't blame him for hurting me in all this. But thinking about that makes my throat close up and I just can't deal with that right now.
Sorry to drone. But I want this blog to be an accurate snapshot of who I was at this time of my life, and I'd be less than honest if I didn't document this.