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Rated: 13+ · Fiction · Comedy · #2115023
Self improvement is never an easy road.

Early morning light is magical. Crisp colors emphasize every blade of grass, glint off each drop of dew. Detail you rarely see, except in a dream. You never get to see it if you habitually sleep in past noon, either.

It took three hours to clear the garbage in front of the TV. Thirty-two bucks for the workout DVD set and seventeen for a cushioned mat. Cheaper than a gym membership, with no muscle-bound judgmental douches telling me that working on my latissimus dorsi is just as critical as building my pectoralis major to get that cadet 'V' taper.

"Look, I'd be happy if I stop jiggling as soon as I stop brushing my teeth." I said out loud to no one at all.

The DVDs weren't marked well, but one was labeled 'Burn Workout, Warm-Up'. I slipped it in and a ruggedly built man on my TV greeted me intensely.

"Welcome to the Burn Workout Warm Up, I'm Dirk Darkly and I'm your coach. Let's get that blood pumping!!" The veins along his neck bulged impressively as he led me through some lunges and burpees.

Five minutes In, my mouth felt like I'd been drinking sand. My breathing was labored.

"You waking up yet? Twenty jumping jacks...REACH!" his face was transformed by a sadistic Grin.

Ten minutes now, and I'm doing these half push-up, half spider-crawl, twisting torture things. My chest burned as if I'd been pepper sprayed.

"Come on, slow poke, get those knees up!!" He goaded like some demonic drill instructor.

Fifteen minutes. I'm running in place in pools of my own sweat. The Geneva Convention is there for a reason. POW organizations will raise money for ME. With those last lunges, I collapse on the mat.

"And twenty. Awesome Warm-up! Let's get this workout started!!"

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