Why? I don’t want to do this.
I glance down at the digital green number on my dash. It is 11:30, which seems late enough. I look away from the clock and out my window. The moon was brightly winking down onto the empty parking lot.
No one will be there this time of night. No one, but the attendant.
I grab my green gym bag and hop out of the warmth offered within the safety of my small Honda. The chill of another autumn night greets my skin. Goosebumps pimple up my arms and neck as I briskly walk toward the Pumped-Up Gym’s glass doors.
Maybe it will be okay if I skip out on another night of working out. I much rather be curled up next to Steven watching tv until I fall asleep.
I know what will happen if I don’t have a starting point. It will be like last time. I will be staring in the mirror at my pasty freckled self, full of guilt about eating that bag of chocolate.
Oh, Steven. I wish I could spend all day eating catnip and not worrying about my weight or what people think about me. I don’t know why, but I am concerned about what people think of me. Even though I don’t want to be concerned with it, and I much rather be at home with my little ball of fur and a cup of coffee.
I held out my check-in card and smiled briefly at the short black-haired girl behind the counter. She pushed up her glasses and smiled back.
I bet she doesn’t really want to be here either.
I was at a critical moment, should I choose the bicycle or the treadmill? Not trying to be lazy I tried the treadmill for about five minutes. My legs were jellying out on me already.
Man, was I out of shape.
No more chocolate. No more coffee. I lied to myself often.
I walked slowly over to the bicycle and smiled.
This was going to work; I could easily read my book while working out.
30 minutes later…
It was like a ghost town at night. No cars, no people, just the way I liked it on my way home.
I parked in my driveway and hopped out of my car.
I could hear Steven as I pushed open my door and stepped inside my toasty safe haven.
I smiled down at the ball of fur that was curling itself around my right leg. He glared up at me with his blue eyes.
“Yes, I know, I took too long to get home. All you care about are your cat treats.”
As soon as I said the word treats Steven took off toward the kitchen and his cat food bowl.
By Ashley Houston
This is a work in progress. I will post more to Introvert Shorts as I write it.
The picture is one I took of my cat Smokey a few months ago. 🙂