I'll Huff And Puff

Well, so far I've
been trudging to Curves
on a regular basis
and I keep crossing my fingers
that results will be forthcoming.

After an exerting workout,
I feel like I should have melted off
a ton of fat
and be ready to slip into
a cute little sun dress,
flip flops,
and disappear into the sunset
with my husband grasping
my tiny little waist.

But,
no.

Yesterday was almost embarrassing.

There was just me and another girl
in the entire place.
And she was probably about
thirty or forty pounds heavier than me.

I thought to myself for a moment
how hard it must be for her to
finish the circuit,
but I just smiled at her
and started my workout.

After a few minutes,
there I was-
panting like a sweaty, rabid dog-
my face red as strawberry ,
my tee shirt sticking to me like glue,
my heart beating like a jungle drum
when the cannibals are
ready to attack.

There she was.
Cool as a chilled cucumber.
Lifting, pushing,
stepping-
all with the grace and agility
of a seasoned gymnast.
There wasn't a drop of sweat
to be found on her brow.

I couldn't wait to get out of there.
I couldn't breathe.
I couldn't speak.
I wondered if the defibrillator
in the corner was ready for shock mode.

But this whole experience
has taught me
that I am out of shape.

That I do have lungs -and they hurt.
That I do have ham strings
and arms
and shins
and ribs
that scream out
every time I pull
into the parking lot at Curves.

But, you know what?
I'm not going to listen
to their blood-curdling cries.

I'm going to go in there
and die-
just so I can live.

Just so I can walk out someday
and know-
without a doubt-
that I have
Found Thin.