Getting a Grip: A #MyNewLife Romantic Comedy

by M. E. Carter

  This doesn’t surprise me. “Yeah, it typically runs high in my family. Especially on my dad’s side.”

  “Yes, but it was really high. Your LDLs are at 247.”

  Uh huh. And my dad’s is consistently at 250. Has been for ten years. But I don’t tell her that. “Ok, so I need to watch what I eat?”

  “Well….” She pauses before dropping the bomb on me. “Dr. Wassman would like to start you on Crestor to try and get it under control.”

  “What?” I whine. I know I’m whining and I don’t care. “Isn’t there anything else we can do before trying medication? I eat terrible and I’m lazy. I admit it. Can’t I do something with that instead.”

  “Well, um… hang on.” She puts me on hold, as indicated by the fact that I’m now listening to the sweet sounds of “Never Gonna Give You Up” by Rick Astley, acoustic version. I hum along and of course as soon as we get to the good part, the nurse picks back up. “Mrs. Monroe?”

  “Ms.” I correct her. She ignores me. Whatever.

  “Dr. Wassman says we can try controlling it with diet and exercise first. But you have to come back in six months to get it rechecked.”

  “Absolutely. I’ll toss out my hot dogs and start eating salad tonight.”

  Yeah, I’m not doing either of those things. But she doesn’t need to know that.

  “Ok. Well if you need anything, or have any questions, give us a call.”

  “Thanks, Brandy. See you in six months.”

  We disconnect and I notice a text message.

  Greg: Hope you’re having a great day with the girls. Can’t wait to see you again.

  His sweet text makes me smile. It feels like he’s wooing me. I’ve never been wooed before. James and I sort of fell into dating and never looked back. This is different. It’s him pursing me. I like it.

  Me: Me, too. We’re having an impromptu fashion show. I think I missed my calling.

  Pressing send, I meander my way back inside, plop myself down next to Callie and sigh.

  She ignores me, too busy looking at all her new inventory.

  “Where are the girls?” They’re strangely quiet. It’s freaking me out a little.

  “They’re in their rooms playing retail store.”

  “Retail store? How do you play that?”

  Yet another gleam in her eye. “You fold all your clothes and hang your dresses nicely for your customers.”

  Leave it to Callie to come up with a way to get my girls to pick up their rooms.

  My phone buzzes with another text.

  Greg: Supermodels are too skinny. You’re perfect the way you are.

  If only he knew my doctor’s opinion on that.

  “I’ll ignore the text message that just made you blush and smile since I’m assuming I already know who it’s from.” I shoot her an annoyed look, but as always it doesn’t faze her. “But who called?”

  “Doctor’s office. My bloodwork came back.”

  She stops and looks at me—really looks at me—trying to see if it’s bad news. “That took them way too long to get it back.”

  “It took them way too long to draw blood that day, too.”

  She keeps staring at me, waiting for me to give her the results. This is one of the things that sucks about getting older. A call from the doctor, any doctor, makes us all expect the worst while hoping for the best.

  “My cholesterol is too high.”

  She immediately looks relieved and waves me off. “That’s not a big deal. Everyone’s cholesterol is high.”

  “No. Mine is really high.” She still doesn’t look at me. “Callie, I have to join a gym.”

  That finally gets her attention. She looks at me, face pale, hand over her mouth. “It’s a fate worse than death,” she whispers.

  I snigger. “Ohmygod. Drama much?”

  “Shut up. I hate the gym. I’d rather have a heart attack.”

  Me, too, I think to myself. Me, too.

  When I was in my twenties, I loved working out. It made me feel strong and boosted my endorphins. I would run or do aerobics or swim at least five days a week.

  Then I had children.

  And having children meant being tired. That eventually morphed into being lazy.

  Now the most exercise I get, besides carrying around small children, is running from my bedroom to the bathroom when Aunt Flo shows up unannounced.

  But today is a new day. Today is the day I take back control of my body. Take back control of my heart health. And take back control from this damn treadmill that might as well be a rocket launching computer at NASA with all the buttons and functions it has on it. Seriously, how the hell do you turn this thing on?!

  A quick, stealth glance at the woman running next to me does me no good. She’s a tall, leggie blonde who has obviously been doing this for a while. And she isn’t pressing any of the buttons. She’s running like she’s being chased by a bear and wants to make sure she’s not last.

  Don’t worry, honey. Clearly, I would be the loser in that scenario.

  Luckily for me, someone climbs onto the treadmill on my left and knows how to turn it on. Following her lead, I finally get mine going and soon enough, I’m working up a sweat.

  Well, not really a sweat. It’s more of a slight glisten, but I’m taking it slow. It’s going to take some time to build up my endurance.

  “You’re gonna have to do more than meander to get your heart rate up.”

  What Greg doesn’t know is my heart sped up the minute I heard his voice. We haven’t seen each other since Christopher basically got us all kicked out of class. We’ve texted a lot, but not made eye contact. Supposedly, we’re all going to keep meeting up on Thursday mornings for playdates, we just haven’t quite figured out where, yet.

  “Hey, you!” I put on my brightest smile, mentally berating myself for opting to wear my old, faded yoga pants to the gym so the new ones will stay clean to wear in public. “I didn’t know you were a member here.”

  “Yeah, I’m here a few days a week. Gotta keep my strength up so I can spot all the kids at my job.”

  “That’s why you do it? It has nothing to do with keeping that six-pack rock hard?”

  He smirks and I realize I’ve said too much again. Crap. Now he knows I’ve been checking him out. I mean, he probably already assumes since we made out like a bunch of fifteen-year-olds the other day, but a lady isn’t supposed to admit these things.

  Fortunately, he’s a gentleman and ignores the blush that crosses my face, although I can tell by the way his eyes crinkle slightly that he’s at least amused. “That’s definitely a nice benefit. But no. It’s more about the job. Those gymnasts look tiny, but when a hundred pounds of flailing arms and legs comes barreling at you, you’d better be strong enough to catch them.”

  Leggy blonde on my right slows down her treadmill to a walk. Well, a fast walk. The bear would still catch me first. She has sexy sweat dripping down her barely covered torso and a tiny little butt with the right amount of cheek sticking out of her boy shorts. Ugh. She makes me want to reconsider ten years’ worth of chocolate and macaroni and cheese.

  “Hi Greg,” she says with a breathy smile. I kind of hate her right now.

  “Hey Heather.” He raises his head in greeting and turns right back to me.

  Take that, Heather, I think victoriously. Apparently, I don’t do jealous well.

  “Come to my spin class with me.” He smiles encouragingly, which makes me want to jump right off this treadmill and follow him wherever he wants to go. But then I remember, he wants to go to spin.

  “Uhh…” I hesitate. “I’m not sure I’m up to that level of endurance yet. This is day one for me.”

  “Come on.” He persists and that smile... No way I’ll be able to resist if he keeps looking at me that way.

  “Fine,” I huff and slap the stop button on my treadmill. That button is clearly marked. “But if I fall off the bike and hurt myself, you’re going to have to explain to Callie why I can’t be her wa
lking billboard tomorrow night.”

  “Her what?”

  “Long story. Where are the bikes anyway?”

  “Up here.” Grabbing my water bottle and towel, we head up the stairs, around the corner, through a room full of weights… frankly, I have no idea where we are or how I’ll ever find this place again. But depending on how this turns out, that might not be a bad thing.

  The room is darker than any other part of the gym. The lights are all turned off, I’m assuming to keep the temperature down a bit, and the only light comes from a few square windows.

  “Welcome!” a female voice calls through the speakers. “Grab a bike and we’ll be starting in a few minutes.”

  “That’s Bianca,” Greg informs me. “She’s great.”

  Bianca smiles and greets everyone that walks in. She’s a tiny, dark-haired woman of some sort of Latin decent. She has a slight accent, but I can’t place where she’s from. She’s beautiful and has some kick ass legs. If that’s what spin does for your backside, I’ll be here every day.

  Greg finds us two bikes, side by side, and adjusts his seat.

  There are way more knobs and pully-things than any other bike I’ve ridden before. “Um, I don’t have any idea what I’m doing,” I admit.

  “Here, let me help. Your seat should be about hip height when you’re standing next to it, like this.” He begins moving the knobs and adjusting things. “Your handlebars need to be a little higher than that. But for your height, you don’t want them too far away or it’ll get uncomfortable. Jump on and see how that feels.”

  Jump? Uh, no. Instead, I climb up on the bike and nod in agreement, pretending it’s all correct. Really, I have no idea, and I have a hard time believing there’s any way to make sitting on this thing comfortable. These are literally the world’s smallest seats. Who’s butt fits on these things? Well, besides Heather from the treadmill.

  What I do know is the pedals have stir ups. Probably for people like me who have a legitimate concern about falling off a stationary bike.

  “Ok everybody, let’s get this party started!” Bianca yells, and the music begins pumping through the speakers. I can barely hear the whir of the bikes over the base. I’m not pedaling nearly as fast as everyone else, but this is kind of fun. I might be able to do this for an hour.

  “Everybody up!” Bianca instructs and everyone around me stands up.

  Wait, we have to stand up and pedal? I can barely stay on this thing when I’m sitting down.

  But in the interest of not looking like the only schlump in the group, I go for it. And surprise! I can do it!

  Look at me! I’m riding a bike while standing up on the pedals! Sure, the bike’s not going anywhere, but I still get credit for standing, right?

  “And back down!” Bianca yells again.

  I try to follow along but sitting back down on that tiny little seat proves to be more difficult than I expect. I’m legitimately surprised it hasn’t ended up in places no bike seat should go.

  “And back up!”

  Ohmygod, again?

  I glance over at Greg who is following along just fine. He’s barely even breaking a sweat. Me? It’s been three minutes, and I’m ready to call it quits.

  “Let’s speed it up everybody!”

  We stand up, sit down, speed up, slow down, and all the while I look more and more like I got in a fight with a garden hose and lost. Bianca tries to keep us motivated, which works for everyone. Everyone except me. I want to fall off this bike and die. Surely the hour is almost over.

  “Relax everyone.” Bianca finally sits back and grabs her water bottle. “Take a drink and get ready. That was a great warm up.”

  Warm up? Oh no. It’s only been fifteen minutes?

  Greg recognizes the look on my face and does what he does best… coach.

  “You’re doing good, Elena. The first time is hard for everyone. Just do as much as you can.”

  I’m breathing too heavy to speak, so I’m stuck with nodding my appreciation, as I wipe down my entire upper body. I hope this gym has enough towels. I’m gonna go through a lot of them.

  I try really hard to keep up with the rest of the class, but eventually I give up and try to enjoy the fact that I’m still moving my legs. My heart is still beating. I’m sweating. My body is feeling stronger. For now, that’s good enough.

  The sounds of Ed Sheeran’s “Shape of You” pumps through the speakers, getting me motivated again.

  I love this song. What woman doesn’t want a man to revere her body like she’s a goddess, regardless of her shape? Someday I’ll have that. Someday.

  Plus, Ed Sheeran’s voice makes me horny. But I’m trying not to remember that part while continually sitting up and down on the seat. One rub the wrong way and I’ll never be allowed to come back.

  Greg is sweaty and breathing hard. Yet somehow, he still looks amazing.

  He catches my glance and smirks, then gives me a quick once over before his gaze lingers on my ass. My ass that’s currently sticking out as I’m standing up on the pedals, bent over the handle bars. He looks back to my eyes, wiggles his eyebrows once, and mouths the words to the song right on cue… I’m in love with your body.

  I gasp and lean to the left. Fortunately, I catch myself before I fall, but my heartrate never comes back down. I can’t believe he did that, the little flirt.

  Biting back a smile, I turn back to follow along with Bianca. Somehow, sticking my ass out no longer seems like such a bad idea.

  By the end of class, I still feel like I’m dying, but I have to admit, I feel strong. I feel like I’ve released a lot of stress. I feel good.

  Until I try to climb off the bike and nearly fall over. Thank goodness for those stir ups or I would have been flat out on the floor.

  “Well? What do you think?” Greg hands me some wipes and we begin cleaning off our bikes.

  “I think there are definitely more fun ways to get bruises on my bum,” I joke. He half gasps, half chokes. “Oh, come on. You’re still being shocked by some of the things I say?”

  What is happening here? I’m the one flirting with him, not the other way around. When did I start doing that? I guess there’s something to say for these endorphins. They make me a new woman.

  “You know I like being shocked by the things you say. You always keep me on my toes.”

  Waddling my bruised butt to the door, I throw my trash away, grab a fresh towel, and wrap it around my neck.

  “Do you have time to grab something to eat at the snack bar?”

  “I wish I could.” And I really, really do. “But I only have daycare for another, oh shit, forty-five minutes,” I say, as I look at the clock.

  He looks briefly disappointed but recovers quickly. “Oh is Max here?”

  “Yeah. In the daycare. It’s really nice that she gets to play with the other kids. But mostly it’s nice that I can shower without her throwing the curtain back to tell me what color booger she blew out of her nose.”

  He laughs that deep chuckle and suddenly I wish I got the bruises in my nether regions the fun way. “You should try being a guy showering around a two-year-old girl. She’s always pointing and asking, ‘wat dat?’” I press my lips together to curb my laugh. “Yeah, you know what I’m implying. At least I’ve finally broken her of grabbing for it.”

  Laughter bubbles out of me at the thought of Peyton standing under him, looking up and grabbing for his manhood. I won’t tell him how I realized I was getting lazy in my grooming habits when Max tried to pet me, post shower, like a kitten. I took clippers to that problem area real quick.

  “Yeah, it’s funny to you,” Greg jokes.

  “I’m sorry. You’re right. It’s not… ok, yeah it is.” My laughter starts all over again, but this time he joins me. “Anyway,” I say, pulling myself together, “James takes the kids this weekend. Can I have a rain check on lunch?”

  His face immediately brightens. “Absolutely. I’ll call you tonight to make plans.”

  “O
k.”

  “Now go take a shower. You’ve only got forty minutes left and you need to stand under that hot water for a while so your muscles don’t hurt too bad tomorrow.”

  He leans in and in full view of everyone, including Heather, who I hope is catching all of this, kisses me. It’s only a peck, but it’s a leisurely one. A kiss that says, “She’s mine.” When he finally breaks away, I flash him one last smile, turn to the locker room and walk away, feeling confident and content.

  I had a great workout, I’ve got another date, and my crush likes the shape of my body.

  Now doesn’t that put a little extra sway in my hips.

  Butt bruises don’t lie.

  Two days ago, I was sitting on a tiny little bicycle seat, feeling good about accomplishing some exercise. Today, I’m trying to sit gently on a bench while Fiona does gymnastics, but every time I move, it feels like that time I traded paddle licks with a two-hundred-pound college kid at a frat party on a dare.

  I will neither confirm nor deny if I ever partook in such an exercise. But I will say, it took a month for those bruises to finally fade.

  This is why I don’t do Jaeger bombs. They give drunk college girls bad ideas.

  Greg came out of the office a little while ago and started to come talk to me, but I was on an emergency call with my mom. Or what she considers a grandma emergency anyway. She wanted to verify that I had, in fact, said the girls have been so good today they could have ice cream instead of vegetables for dinner.

  If that had been true, Maura blew it by trying to pull a fast one on her Mimi.

  However, I give her credit for reminding me that we’re out of mint chocolate chip, and I need to stop for some on my way home.

  When I shifted in my seat to wave at Greg and subsequently winced, he laughed at me. The dirty look I shot his direction made him laugh even harder. If he wasn’t such an amazing person and I didn’t like him so much, I would have called him an asshole.