Hi, I’m Maria Thompson. I’m 32 and a new mom to a beautiful baby girl named Emma. Life has been a whirlwind since she was born a few months ago, but it’s the kind of chaos I wouldn’t trade for anything. I live with my wonderful husband, James, who’s been my rock through all the sleepless nights and diaper changes.
Then there’s my family. My mom, Carol, who’s my biggest cheerleader. My stepmom, Linda Walker, who’s always been a part of my life. Linda is trying to become a social media influencer, which means she’s constantly taking pictures and videos, always aiming for that perfect shot.
We’re a bit different in that way. Linda’s all about the flawless image, while I’ve been more focused on the messy, wonderful reality of being a new mom.
That day was my birthday. I walked into my living room and couldn’t believe my eyes. Balloons, streamers, and a big banner that read “Happy Birthday, Maria!” filled the room. Everyone I loved was there, smiling and cheering. It was my birthday, and I hadn’t expected much since I had been so busy with the baby. But here was a surprise party just for me.
“Happy Birthday, Maria!” everyone shouted.
“Oh my gosh, you guys! This is amazing!” I said, my face lighting up with joy.
Sarah, my best friend, stepped forward with a grin. “You deserve it, Maria. You’ve had a crazy year.”
I hugged her tight. “Thank you so much. This is exactly what I needed.”
My mom handed me the baby, little Emma, who cooed happily in my arms. “We all wanted to celebrate your first year as a mom too,” she said.
Tears welled up in my eyes. “I’m so lucky to have all of you.”
The party was perfect. We laughed, ate cake, and took lots of photos. I made sure to capture every moment and later posted them on my private Instagram account, sharing my joy with my close friends and family.
Later that evening, I got a call from my stepmom, Linda Walker. Her voice was high-pitched and shaky.
“Maria, you need to delete those photos!” she blurted out.
“What? Why?” I asked, confused.
“You posted that picture of the whole family. I look horrible in it,” she said.
I frowned. “Linda, you look fine. Everyone knows what we really look like.”
“No, you don’t understand,” she said. “I’m trying to become a social media influencer. All my pictures are photoshopped to look perfect. I can’t let people see me like that.”
I sighed, feeling a mix of frustration and sympathy. “Linda, it’s just a family photo. It’s on my private account. Only friends and family can see it.”
“Maria, please,” she begged. “I’ll send you a photoshopped version. Just replace it.”
A few minutes later, I received the edited photo. Linda had slimmed down her waist, legs, and arms. It barely looked like her.
