Page 41 of Set on You

Talking to Scott is easy. More than easy. I feel light and joyful. We have a similar sarcastic, dirty-minded sense of humor. I don’t feel the necessity to pre-plan what I’m going to say next. It justflows out. And if it’s awkward, he doesn’t seem to notice, or at least, he doesn’t make it obvious.

By the time we loop around the pier, I’ve already made a list of ultra-long movies he needs to watch, in their entirety, obviously. Scott seems happy to accept the challenge. He is also keen to ask me random questions, like who my favorite singer is (Lizzo), or where I want to go on vacation (New Zealand). I’ve also learned more about him.

His favorite color is blue. He doesn’t like cats, or pineapples on pizza. He had a pet turtle named Bob as a child. He also has two older sisters (one in the UK and the other in Arizona), who he claims tortured him growing up (he has a scar on his left knee to prove it). Since his dad passed away, he’s the only guy among his mom and his sisters.

By the time he gets around to telling me about his unhealthy obsession withBill Nye the Science Guy, we finally reach the Excalibur Fitness parking lot.

He lets out a long sigh. “Wish I could keep telling you embarrassing facts about my life, but I should get back to Albus. I’d ask you to come back and hang out, but it’s probably too soon for him to meet you.”

“Are you always this picky about Albus meeting your acquaintances?”

“Of course. I can’t just bring random people into his life. He’s still impressionable at his age.”

“By the way, this wasn’t a date in any way, shape, or form,” I remind him. “It’s simply an apology sorbet outing between two former strangers, turned nemeses, turned acquaintances whose grandparents are getting married. A truce.”

“Are you confirming we’re not mortal enemies anymore?”

I nod.

He gives me a satisfied grin and pulls me into a casual yet warm hug.

7:35 A.M.—INSTAGRAM POST: “SIZE POSITIVE CAMPAIGN—FOR THOSE ON THE FENCE ABOUT FITNESS” BYCURVYFITNESSCRYSTAL:

I haven’t always been a boss bitch in the gym. Truth. Just ask my 15-year-old self. I’d just gotten dumped by my very first boyfriend—some gangly kid named Bobby with a 2.0 GPA who was best known for eating an entire brick of marble cheese on a dare. I was quite literally sobbing on the treadmill over him after school and actually slipped on my own tears and flew off the back (skinned my chin and both knees). I think I was unconscious for a couple seconds, because I woke up to the most popular guy in school (think Peter Kavinsky on steroids) holding my hand and rubbing my back. LOL.

Then there was also the first time I attempted a pull-up without testing my grip strength. I fell ass-first onto the hard floor. And then that time I attempted a push-up after doing a chest superset. I full-out face-planted.

Why am I sharing my embarrassing gym stories? It’s for everyone who is nervous about getting into fitness. It literally can’t get worse than the above stories. Seriously. And even if you do embarrass the crap out of yourself, just remember, every gymregular has a story, no matter how pro and “fit” they may seem. They’ve all been there. Trust.

If you’re on the fence about incorporating fitness into your life (whether at the gym or at home), or simply getting back on the fitness train after taking a break, just try it out again. I’m not saying everyone needs to exercise to be happy. I’m not saying you need to get in the gym and lift weights. Fitness has brought me and many others a lot of joy. But it’s not for everyone, and that’s okay. I’m simply advocating for you to make the time to do something for you. Even just go for a walk around the block and clear your mind. Or curl up with a comfort book. I guarantee you won’t regret it!

Remember: The worst part about working out is putting on your sports bra.

Comment by_averyking: It can be frustrating getting back into fitness, but it’s so worth it.

Comment bygreenjay4: not surprised your teenage boyfriend dumped you.

Comment byKathyHilliker: LOL these stories killed me. Thanks for putting a smile on my face!!

chapter fifteen

A STOCKY MAN WITHbulging steroid biceps, in a matching yellow helmet and suspenders, grinds his junk over Grandma Flo to the rhythm of “Pony” by Ginuwine. It’s the last thing I thought I’d ever bear witness to. I am in desperate need of eye bleach. Stat. Unfortunately, this image is burned into my memory for all of eternity.

Compelled to preserve the spectacle to scar future generations to come, I took multiple videos. The footage is shaky at best. It’s difficult to hear the music over the high-pitched squealing in the background, partially thanks to the martinis. Grandma Flo’s howling laughter is unmistakable as she snakes her hands up and down the man’s bare, generously oiled chest while her lifelong best friends, Annie and Ethel, crowd around, snapping blurry photos with their massive iPads.

It was Annie and Ethel’s idea to attend Ladies’ Night at a stripclub for Grandma’s bachelorette party. Tara kindly ordered an array of phallus-shaped sugar cookies of all colors, girths, and lengths. Given Grandma Flo’s pearl-clutching tendencies, I was certain the whole thing was going to go tits up—that she’d find the night’s activities crude and “unbecoming.” But all my fears were hung out to dry when she mock–deep throated one of the penis cookies for a photo, without prompting.

Who is this woman? This surely can’t be the same Grandma who washed my mouth out with Dove bar soap when I was ten after I uttered the wordhellon a Sunday—“the Lord’s Day”—of all days. It’s certainly not the same woman who strong-armed my religiously indifferent parents into sending Tara and me to Bible camp for three consecutive summers. I’m beginning to think she’s been kidnapped by aliens, replaced by a much cooler replica—up until she matter-of-factly informs Tara she’ll “never keep a man” if she doesn’t learn how to cook.

I stealthily slip outside for a breather, parking myself on the sidewalk, crunching one of the penis cookies I snagged. Aside from the threat of an unwanted lap dance, the club was starting to feel cramped and hot from one too many martinis. The music, strobe lights, and fog machine didn’t help, not that the plumes of cigarette smoke, the steaming garbage, and a hint of sewage outside are much of an improvement.

In my tipsy state, I have this nagging urge to show someone the video. And the only other person who will fully appreciate its eccentricity is Scott. We’ve been texting back and forth since our sorbet hangout last week. Our texts have been constant today while at our respective grandparents’ bachelor parties. Scott hasapparently achieved “best friend” status with Dad. He’s even sent me selfies of the two of them golfing together to prove it.

RITCHIE_SCOTTY7

Wow. I can’t unsee that vid. Ever.

CURVYFITNESSCRYSTAL

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