Angelina Jolie stood in front of the full-length mirror in her black granite bathroom that had a commanding view of the Pacific Ocean through the wall that was entirely made of bullet-proof glass. The stone house was perched high on a cliff, and the vista though the wall of glass included a few distant sailboats and one oil tanker on the horizon. It was morning, not 7:00 AM yet, and the light made the Pacific water look almost purple. To enter the bathroom is to absorb a sense of awe at the glass wall, the great expanse of the Earth's largest body of water. But if one entered at this moment, they would also absorb a sense of awe at the naked Angelina Jolie standing at a mirror examining her body.
Angelina was alone. The mirror was along the north wall of the black granite room that contained four under-mounted rectangular sinks with brushed nickel fixtures. The black toilet and adjacent black bidet were along the south wall. The full length mirror which was occupying Angelina's attention was nestled between the two counters, each containing two of the four sinks.
Angelina did not like this view of herself. Indeed, naked views were always the most revealing. One could not hide flaws behind designer clothes and tight fitting undergarments that shaped one's outward appearance. Here, in the privacy of her southern California bathroom, Angelina saw what most did not see.
She saw her very long and thin legs. Check. That was good.
She saw her very long and thin arms. Check. That was good.
She saw her long neck. Check. That was good.
She saw her porcelain complexion. Check. That was good (though the pregnancy had caused some blemishes. Minor. Not a worry.)
She saw her face. A total big check. That was the best thing going. So everyone said. Who was she to disagree.
But then she saw the middle, the part few ever saw, the part that was so cleverly disguised by the distractions of long legs and a beautiful face. The middle was short, the distance from hips to shoulders was too short for the length of her legs and arms. In addition, her middle was soft. There was no six-pack of muscles, now definition at all, actually. She was soft, as she had always been. When she lost weight, the weight would come off everywhere but the middle. The middle only gave up fat when she starved herself. And since she just gave birth, her middle was softer than usual.
Now the bad part. The breasts sagged. They were very large and hung down. This was not due to age, just body type. And the breasts enhanced the impression that Angelina's middle was big. They, the two large breasts that is, were soft as well. Very soft. Angelina had thought of breast reduction surgery, but she decided against it, having a visceral reaction against any plastic surgery.
So there she was in one of the most outstanding bathrooms on the planet Earth with one of the most commanding views money could buy, and she was focused on what anyone in Western world would be focused on if they were in that bathroom with her. Angelina's naked body.
Brad Pitt had noticed her body as well. Angelina knew that Jennifer Aniston's body was actually better proportioned than hers. Aniston's body had the more pleasing esthetic, and in the nude, Aniston's middle was just the right size and shape for her legs and arms. Angelina had Aniston beat on the face front. Sort of. She had guessed, and was ashamed to admit that she even thought about such things. But Angelina had seen Brad examine the Angelina Jolie body. Brad betrayed a certain minor disgust at the large soft middle, though he denied it when Angelina poked fun at him without betraying her own actual concern for Brad Pitt's opinion on the matter.
Why did she care? Well, she said to herself, she cared because of the baby. She cared because she wanted a normal family. And she wanted it to remain that way. Angelina Jolie anted Brad Pit and her to remain together. Fat chance, right, in Hollywood. Brad had already started to act ever so slightly distant since they returned to Los Angeles. And she overheard a conversation Brad had with Jennifer Aniston that was a little too comfortable for her taste.
Mirrors. Damn mirrors. They made you paranoid. What was she worried about. She was gorgeous. Soft in the middle. Big deal. The hell with it. She was healthy. She had a good attitude. Certainly healthier than the chain-smoking Jennifer Aniston. And Angelina was diving back into her work. Her work. Her baby. Her beautiful view. Her beautiful bathroom. Her beautiful life. No complaints.
Angelina gave herself a wink. It was a twenty-million dollar wink. Roll the cameras. Let's get back to work. Give her a note. Give her some direction. She’ll make the scene work. She’ll make it work.