‘It means I have thick hair all over my body. It’s repulsive and I understand if it turns you off me. I wax as often as I can.’ I lifted the skirt of my dress and revealed my hairy legs to him.

He laughed and I felt stupid.

‘Come here, Ruby,’ he said to me, calling me over to the bed. ‘I have hair all over my body too, do you think I’m repulsive?’

I told him I did not. He tried to make love to me, but I said I couldn’t do that. That it would take time for me to be able to let myself go in that way, that I couldn’t guarantee I ever would at certain times in the cycle. He respected that. He was relieved. He just wanted me to love him.

Then he asked me to marry him.

I look so thin in my wedding photos. Pale. Gaunt. My dress was lovely, I thought. I made it. It was inspired by a Victorian wedding dress that I found. I did my own hair and make-up, of course. But I didn’t do it very well. In Photoshop, I warm the tone of my skin a little, plumping out my cheeks, filling out the gaps under my eyes. It’s a subtle difference, but it makes me look better. The dress has ruffles all across the front. I chose that to distract from how flat my chest is. I enhance my breasts a bit, adding a cup size or two. It looks better.

Why stop there? It’s for my eyes only.

I drag out my hips, giving me a much fuller figure than I would ever allow, but often dream of. A voluptuous shape, a bottom that men would admire. It looks good on me, I can’t deny that. I smooth away the veins on my hands, shorten my fingers a little, plump them up. I put some extra shine onto my hair, make my feet smaller and take away the veins on my neck.

I look lovely. An image I would be quite delighted with. I suppose if my pictures were being seen my millions of people, I’d want this work to be done on them too. Maybe Lauren Pearce isn’t as crazy as I thought. It’s nice to look at photographs of yourself that boost your self-esteem. But of course, this isn’t real.

I look at the photo for a while, wondering what a different life I could live if I could make those changes to myself for real. It would be better, I don’t doubt that for a moment. I’d be happier. I’d probably still be married.

My phone rings. It’s the nursery. They keep calling and I keep letting it go to answerphone. This time I feel bad and listen to the message.