Page 27 of The Ground Beneath Our Feet
A girl hopped up on the bench in front of the lockers and preened before the mirror. I didn’t want to be a creeper, but I was compelled to watch her. Bright red, tight pants showed off an ass like two smooth cantaloupes. No cellulite on this chick. Her lithe, toned arms and perky breasts meant she had a perfect body.
I felt like a big lump of gray clay, all soft and squishy and ugly. I’d never be able to wear anything that fit my figure like that.
Stupid, stupid. I shouldn’t be here. I should just give up.
And I wanted to burst into tears.
As I shlumped to my car, gym bag slung over my shoulder weighing me down, I called Monica.
“I hate spin class.”
“Girl. I could have told you that. Spin class is not for the weak of heart.”
“Or the weak of ass.”
She giggled. “Oh-em-gee, Jessica said a bad word!”
“Thanks to Mikey.”
“He’s a good influence on you.”
I opened my car door. “I’m not so sure about that. He’s more of a force of nature.” I fastened my seatbelt, pushing my boobs out of the way. “But seriously, the gym isn’t going to work for me. I felt sick.”
“You pushed yourself too hard.”
“If I don’t push myself, how am I gonna lose this weight?”
“Have you thought about a personal trainer?”
“They’re expensive.”
“You’re a lawyer.”
“I’m a baby lawyer.”
She sighed. “You said Mikey is a personal trainer, right? Go ask him.”
