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Rated: E · Other · Other · #1202648
Ongoing story of how a girlfriend is reluctantly helping a friend plan her wedding. Draft
Weight Loss can be a very freeing experience when done correctly. I thought about last Thursday night's escapade at the craft store with Hope and Faith. The terrible thoughts about Hope's upcoming nuptials that encompassed my mind. I've become some kind of love cynic. I've need to make some penance. Even though, Hope is oblivious to my callousness. So, at five o'clock this morning, I headed towards the local gym.

When I arrive at the gym, the incessant klinking of the weights and the buzzing of the nautilus machines fill the air. I spot Hope's pear shaped body on a stair climber. Her blue warm up pants make a continual "shwish, shwish" rhythm as her legs move up and down the steps. Hope's eyes and brows are focused and furrowed.Her brown pony tail bobbles up and down.

While walking through the free weight area, the deep, neanderthal grunts of the "hunky guy" heard flirtatiously rise into my tickled ear. I even say,"Hi" to one of them, but subdue the urge to initiate any type of conversation. I needed to workout with Hope this morning. Make my mental amends for ever thinking her Brazilian fiancee would ever think of marrying for immigration convenience.

"Good Morning, Miss Recently Engaged." I greet her as I climb onto the stair master.

At first, she responds with heavy, inaudible breaths. She presses the blinking down arrow on her black machine and begins to briskly walk. Her body begins to accumulate to a slower pace.

"Wow, Charity--up at five. Starting off the New Years with getting to the gym? I think that's great." She smiling brightly. " I need to lose at least twenty pounds for this wedding. I want to fit into at least a size four for the wedding."

I looked down at my size 12 body and thought, I'm glad I am not in this wedding. I would probably look like a big slice of cheesecake amidst life-size pretzel sticks.
Even at my lowest weight, I would still be a size 9 or ten.Life just wasn't fair.

"I think you look fabulous, Hope." I gave her my highest beamed smile.

"Why thanks! It's been at least three or four months of eating right and exercising daily. I don't know whether it's because I'm in love or planning my wedding, but whatever it may be, my succesful weight loss has been because of good choices.

Hmm...I thought, I am not so sure about that. Wait a minute. I did not come here to become cynical. I came here to work out and to rectify my forboding thoughts about Hope's wedding and soon to be husband.

I hop onto the black, sleek elliptical runner besides Hope. Turning on the machine, I begin to move my legs back and forth vigorously. All the while, I am silently composing my thoughts and how am I to share my true feelings to my good friend Hope. Delicate creature that she is. I feel like a damn yin yang sign, but struggling with the yin.

Fifteen minutes of contemplation and concentration go by. "Hope, can I ......'pant, pant, pant'....make a confession to you." I say as my body is about to pass out and collapse on the floor.

"Sure, as long as it's not a confession that your having an affair with my man." She laughs herself to oblivion. "But that is pretty hard because he's in Brazil." She gives a little giggle.

Hmmm...my confession would be better if it were that concrete of a thought. I don't know what could be worse...having an affair or not really giving support to a friends life choice or endeavor, but I feel like I'm lying everytime I said I was so happy for her.

"I think that you should not marry Alfredo. I don't feel good about it. He's coming on his tourist visa in March and you can observe how he interacts with the American culture." Hopefully, the only American culture he would be interfacing with would be Hope and not some two bit flouzy with a set of breasts, a vagina and two legs.

I was met with a conversational lull of about ten minutes. She and I just kept going on our machines. We panted. We I began to panic, but I felt a weight had been lifted off me.

© Copyright 2007 Miss Margaret Hale (sonflowrr at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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