Hot Secrets by Day Gianna

Author:Day, Gianna [Day, Gianna]
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Publisher: Fever Streak Press
Published: 2012-10-10T21:00:00+00:00

Hot Sweat

By Gianna Day

“Do we have to do this?” I whine.

Raising a weight repeatedly over my head is not something my body naturally wants to do. A dull ache lurks in my shoulders from all that she’s forced me to do in the previous fifty minutes; this last exercise looms like Everest.

“Yes,” says Rebecca. “We have to do this. No more complaining. Ready, we’re doing twenty-five on each side. And go!”

I know that I pay Rebecca to get me into shape, but that doesn’t change the fact that it feels like torture, every single time. The gym is crowded and I can’t shake the irrational fear that everyone is staring at me, judging my less-than-toned body in ill-fitting gym clothes.

“Twenty-three, twenty-four, twenty-five. Great job, now straight to the other side. Go!”

I switch the weight from my right hand to my left. My arms are Jello. “My arms are Jello,” I say.

“What did I just say?” Rebecca asks.

“Uh, you said twenty-five on each side?”

“Correct. And then I said ‘No whining.’”

“But-”

“And since you can hardly breathe as it is, it’s best you shut up and just do the damn exercise. This is your last one.”

I do as I’m told and promptly collapse into a sweaty pile on the gym floor. Again, I feel the eyes of the room on me.

“I don’t think I have the ego for this,” I say.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, it’s hard for me to be here with all these… people.”

Rebecca laughs. “Believe me, Gianna, you are making progress. You look really good. I’m not the only one who’s noticed.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” I ask.

“You’re doing a good job and you don’t have anything to worry about,” she smiles, replacing the weights. “Come on, let’s hit the showers.” She offers an extended hand and I accept.

“I hope we beat the swim ladies,” I say. The swim ladies are a group of older women that take water aerobics. They are known to swarm upon the showers en masse and take a very long time.

“Damn,” says Rebecca as soon as we enter the locker room. The swim ladies are trudging in from the pool, shuffling about, and quickly taking up all the available showers. “Go stand in one of the showers,” she says. “I’ll grab all your stuff.”

I dash into the last remaining shower, heading off a Zumba instructor and an amateur body builder, both of whom roll their eyes at me. I don’t care. I kick off my shoes and set them just outside the shower, a sign to Rebecca letting her know where I am. The rest of my clothes have to be peeled off. Sweat soaks my body and I shudder to think what my face must look like. Probably beet red. On top of that, I’m still panting like a dog.

“I got everything.” Rebecca slips inside with me and closes the shower door, on which she hangs our towels. “Here,” she hands me my Ziploc with shampoo, conditioner, soap and razor.

“Thanks.”

“I hope you don’t mind, but we’re sharing.

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