We've been so open with each other, we've learned that we could share those things that felt impossible to even whisper. To admit to. It hurt when I watched you with her, I felt as if I might not have been enough. That somehow, I might be less than her. She was so beautiful, with her perfect breasts, and full lips.
I felt plain.
You held me and whispered that it meant nothing, that it was just sex. Still, it hurt.
We kissed, then you guided my mouth between her legs. I had to close my eyes, but I wanted to please you, I licked her, and I tasted you dripping out of her. I stayed strong, I held back the tears, even as I heard the two of you kissing as I cleaned her.
It didn't get any easier, but I knew how much it excited you. We were sharing, it was 'for both of us.' you said.
I had to show you that I was all that you needed.
The lip filler injections were 'for the both of us.'
The breast surgery was 'for the both of us'.
But the pain was mine alone.
I looked more like her than myself, but this too was 'for the both of us'.
Eventually, you spent less time with me, and more with her, even after the things I'd done 'for the both of us'.
You didn't hide it, you didn't have to. It no longer felt like I'd done any of these things 'for the both of us.' but I'd found that these things that had altered my body, had also altered my mind.
Smiles, sometimes long stares, looks that I had seen you give her so often, were now being cast at me.
Strangers.