Just what I always wanted to look like: Cinderella on steroids.

“So? What do you think? Isn’t it terrific?”

Horrific would be more like it, but I managed a sickly smile and nodded yes. But as it happened, Kandi didn’t notice my sickly smile because at that moment, Steve showed up at our table. I could see once more why Kandi had fallen for him. He was, in no uncertain terms, a cutie. Spiky Hugh Grant hair, chocolate-brown eyes, a heartmeltingly sweet smile, and buns to die for.

Kandi’s eyes lit up with love.

“Hi, honey,” she said, as he bent down to kiss her. “What are you doing here?”

“Armando and I finished early, so I thought I’d join you two.”

“That’s great. Isn’t that great, Jaine?”

For the second time in less than two minutes, I pasted a sickly smile on my face. “Yeah, great.”

Steve grabbed a chair, and the next thing I knew, he and Kandi were holding hands over their dessert flans and undoubtedly playing footsie under the table. Once again, I was demoted to fifth wheel.

Kandi gazed at Steve, gooey-eyed.

“Jaine just loves her bridesmaid dress. Don’t you, Jaine?”

“Just love it.”

And then I did the only thing I could do under the circumstances: Finish every last morsel of my flan. (And theirs, too, if you must know.)

I sneaked into my apartment like a cheating lover and raced to the bathroom to brush my teeth before Prozac could smell the chimichangas on my breath. I was hoping to convince her I’d had a low-cal tuna nicoise for dinner.

But Prozac wasn’t having anything to do with me. She stared at me through slitted eyes and wriggled out of my arms when I tried to pick her up. I checked her dinner bowl. She hadn’t touched a bite.

“Prozac, sweetie, you’ve got to eat something.”

I’ll eat when you feed me something that doesn’t look like recycled upchuck.

I had to admit, it did look pretty disgusting.

“Here. I’ll sprinkle some kitty treats on top.”

I grabbed a can of cat treats and tossed a liberal handful on top of the diet food. Anything to get her to give the stuff a try.

Prozac sniffed at the bowl dismissively.

I’d rather have bacon bits was what I think she was trying to say.

Bacon bits are Prozac’s favorite snack, right along with pizza anchovies and Chicken McNuggets.

“You can’t have bacon bits,” I said. “They’re not good for you. C’mon now. You love your kitty treats.”

Not that night, she didn’t. She eyed them disdainfully, then stalked off to the living room.

Call me when you’ve got something worth eating.