Chapter 9
Exercise is crucial to good posture. Good posture is essential to confidence. It is one of the many daily routines you must incorporate into your life. No woman should be so busy that exercise does not play some importance and preeminence in her quotidian habits. If you do not have the discipline to exercise, develop it.
Mrs. Prim’s Primer of Poise, Charm, and Beauty.
Section: 4: Poise—Body and Posture
Chapter 7: Exercise and body positioning: How You Hold Your Body Tells About You
Lisa plopped her book onto her lap. “I hate exercise.”
I glanced up. I’d forgotten she was even in the room. But her statement didn’t surprise me. Her body language was all inward, her shoulders slumped forward. Her pale hair hung in her face. She had poor muscle tone and almost a hunched back. I couldn’t exactly picture her doing any type of workout. If she were a character in a 1800s literature, she would’ve been written as the frail and sickly heiress with pale skin, neither straight nor wavy dirty-blond hair. She was possibly more clueless than myself. And that’s saying quite a bit.
Marie, on the other hand, got up at six and went to Pilates.
Kat, who walked everywhere, was as strong as a horse. She was lean and often did her yoga at eleven at night, wearing little more than a bathing suit.
Me? Well, I patted my muffin top and wanted more muffins.
“You’re not fat.” Marie arched her brow.
I poked my dough-colored mid-section for her inspection.
“You just need to get toned.”
I opened the tome. “The book says to take our measurements and follow these exercises for four months. Then compare the difference.”
Marie held the book up, studying each of the illustrations demonstrated by a girl with bobbed hair wearing a unitard. Her face contorted in thought. “I bet you could just come with me to Pilates and skip these.”
I took the book. One drawn image pictured a girl doing “chin exercises.” She tilted back her head and little red arrows suggested opening and closing the mouth. “Maybe this was back when people didn’t talk as much, so they needed to get some jaw action.”
“Or they didn’t need real exercise.”
“Okay, I know I promised to follow the book faithfully, but you’re right. Pliates is the better answer. But I’m not enrolled.”
“So many people have dropped the class, Ms. Ferrel won’t notice one extra person there.”
“I don’t know if I can wake up at six, either.”
“All I hear is excuses.” She held my shoulders. “You can do it. If you have to, you can come back and take a nap before your nine-a.m. class.”
I didn’t really have any exercise clothes. Just a pair of shorts and a T-shirt.
Marie wore a pair of flattering yoga pants. She could’ve worn them on a date.
Marie didn’t need the book. She had great genes, very little emotional baggage, and friends everywhere. But she was so supportive. I nodded my head. “Let’s do Pilates.”
Six a.m. came awfully early. Marie pulled my covers off, pounced on me, and then dragged me out of bed.
I curled up into a ball on the nasty apartment carpet. “I don’t want to go.”
“Never make decisions while lying down.”
I climbed back in bed and pulled the covers over my head. “Never leave your door unlocked when your friend could sneak in and ambush you in the middle of the sleeping.”
“Come on, you promised.”
I buried myself deeper in bed, resolute and undeterred. “My muscles are very happy being flabby and thin. They don’t need exercise.”
“You’ll feel better about yourself. Remember the book.”
Cheater. She had to invoke the book. She knew I couldn’t defy the mystical power of the book. If I wanted the results, I would have to work for them.
I flipped back the covers, dressed in my shorts and a T-shirt that said, “Be a Bullfrog” from my high school’s mascot.
I couldn’t find matching socks.
Marie went back into her room and grabbed a pair and chucked them at me. “Hurry. We’re going to be late.”
Then I scrambled for a few minutes to unbury my athletic shoes. To be fair, it was dark at the bottom of my closet.
I should’ve brought some water. And maybe I should’ve peed before we left because we were late, and we started moving. All I could think about was how thirsty I was and how I had to pee. Then my stomach woke up and told me I should be eating breakfast instead of doing exercises.
Twenty minutes into the class, my arms shook and my legs wobbled beneath me. My heart beat out of my chest. I glanced at Marie who was still going strong. I was breathing hard, sweating like a glass of lemonade on a hot summer’s day.
Finally the music stopped, we were released to go. My face must’ve been purple, and Marie didn’t even look like she’d gone for a walk. I shuffled to the door, feeling worn out, but yeah, good. And thirsty.
Opening the door, she handed me her water bottle. The cool air evaporated my sweat. As we stood outside the rec center, I tipped my head back, draining water from her bottle feeling like a kid goat drinking from its mom’s teat.
Marie grabbed my arm.
I gasped and choked. Water slid everywhere it wasn’t supposed to. The tip of the water bottle hit my tooth, and water splashed on my burning face.
“That’s him.”
She squeezed the bicep of my arm that already had enough abuse for one day.
After nearly drowning, I swallowed what was left in my mouth before turning my head upright again. Wiping my mouth on my sleeve, I looked where she pointed with her pinky. Across the green was the dark-headed guy from the service club. I hadn’t seen him attend any other meetings.
“That’s the guy from my Nat Geo class. I didn’t know he had a class this early up on this campus. We’ve got to get out of class earlier Wednesday to see if we can run into him,” she said.
We’d stood so long in once place, my muscles had locked into place. I nodded as I shuffled to her car.
Wednesday morning, I couldn’t even get out of bed. My body felt like someone had cut all my muscles or strapped hot pads to them. Hurrying was not an option. Luckily, I slept in my workout clothes, so I was ready when Marie sprung on me like a kitten.
“Remember we have to get out fast.”
I nodded because my neck was the only muscle not killing me.
If I thought aerobics was hard the first day, doing all the routines while my muscles were torn was the most painful thing I’d done in college, even more painful than plucking my eyebrows.
After a while, my natural endorphins must’ve kicked in because I couldn’t feel a thing. Where I had legs and arms, I now had ropes of jelly. Which I think I preferred to the aching anyway.
After cool down, Marie pulled me away to the doors. Luckily, I’d remembered to grab my water bottle, but I slogged out of the gym. Her steps were quick, mine were not. It hurt to step upstairs, to walk. To breathe.
And I was in no mood to see any guys, even Marie’s love interest ,with my hair hanging down in soaked wisps around my forehead and stinking of stale sweat. Yum! Attractive.
But I was there for Marie, so we rushed (and I mean she hastened and I shuffled) to where we saw him yesterday.
Marie stamped an impatient foot just as You-Know-Who came around the corner. I couldn’t get out of the way fast enough, and he barreled into me.
I hit the cement hard.
Now my bones ached along with my muscles. Marie stood over me, and the guy was apologizing and attempting to help me up. Of course, I couldn’t bend my legs without letting out screeching sighs of pain.
He bent over me with concern peaking in his brows. He did have amazing ice-blue eyes. “Are you all right? I guess I hit you harder than I thought.”
“No, I’m just sore from aerobics.” There was a little spot on my elbow where I hit the concrete first since I couldn’t step fast enough to catch my balance due to the restricted movement of my sore and aching muscles.
“I’m so sorry,” he said again, once I was upright.
And we stood there for a few awkward moments. He watched me to make sure I could stand properly. I mentally shouted at Marie to say something, but she just stood there dumbfounded.
Finally, he kind of pointed with his hand to the door behind us. “Well, I guess I’d better get to class.”
“Oh, yes,” I said. When he was gone, I turned to Marie. “Why didn’t you say something?”
“My mind went blank.”
“You, to whom I look up as a paragon in speaking with guys. You have your own relationship blog! What happened?”
She spun on her heel and paced toward her car. I sort of hobbled behind her, ouching with each step.
When we got in the car, I turned to her again. “What happened?”
She chewed on her lip. “I know you think I’m like perfect and everything, but I get nervous around guys.”
“But what about Lincoln and Larry? I’ve seen you act normal around them.”
“I’m not interested in those guys.”
With the rising of the sun, a ray of sunshine hit inside of the cab, illuminating of my mind.
The security of her social armor had a gaping hole. “You’re as much afraid of guys as I am.”
“I’m okay as long as I don’t like him, but if it’s someone I’m interested in…I’m a babbling mess. See, I need the book as much as you do.” Her fragile features looked even more frail. She seemed like a lost little girl. For once, I saw her in a different light.