#4…Empire Waist Dress…August 2007

It was one of those spectacular days that occur every once in a great while. I awoke before the alarm but wasn’t pissed or tired. My hair fell just right and my breasts didn’t seem to fall too much. I felt thin and fabulous. 165 pounds. The theme music in my head was upbeat…(“Walking on sunshine…whoa oh!”) I stood laughing and chatting at the home of one of my closest friends. Tossing my hair and flaunting my margarita, I am on top of the world. In a brief distracted moment I catch my friend’s 12-year-old niece staring at my dress, then my margarita judgingly. “Going out?” She asks. ” I thought you were pregnant.” Record scratch…theme music in my head…over…crickets…shortness of breath…My best friend secretly reassures me that it must have just been my empire waist dress. I ponder for a bit whether it is the dress and whether I would get much jail time if I strangled the 12 year old. I conclude neither matter. I need to kick up my weight loss anyway. I must hit the gym… immediately …starting … tomorrow. The first morning that my workout regime is to start I lay in bed silently trying to motivate myself to get up. “Go to the gym. Go to the gym.” I keep repeating this because I find I cannot be trusted to work out until I am actually on the elliptical. I walk in shy and self-conscious. To my relief I am not the biggest person in the gym. I settle myself on the closest elliptical. It feels like centuries since I’ve worked out. I begin. It immediately sucks. I could just work out tomorrow, when I’m having a better hair day, I reason. 12 year old’s words ring through my head. I begin to haul ass on the elliptical. Rocky soundtrack begins in my head. The blood starts pumping through my body, energizing it. (“Get..ting Strong…er”) I wipe the sweat with the back of my hand and I think of 12 year old and of how innocent and honest children are. And I smile as I think of how 12 year old won’t have that fast metabolism forever…


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