Bad Rep

THREE

I wake up from a deep sleep to the sound of my alarm clock blaring and stretch my arm back to shut it off, a lingering pain still in my muscles.

Have I praised Jesus yet for having a stay at home desk job?

I flutter my eyes open to see Eli's side of the bed empty and cold, knowing he's long gone, which is nothing new. Eli's always been an early riser, and he's always gone by the time I get up and start my day, probably just finishing up his first workout of the day by the time I even clock into work.

After nearly dozing off again, I force myself to get up and head for the bathroom. As if compelled, the first thing I do is go straight for the scale, stepping on it and anxiously waiting for the numbers to settle.  A little trill of excitement runs through me when the final numbers pop up on the screen and I'm three pounds down since I weighed myself on Sunday—approximately 48 hours ago. 

Feeling giddy, I complete my typical morning routine with a little more pep in my step, feeling three pounds lighter.

Once I'm done in the bathroom, I swap out my pajamas for some upgraded lounge wear and skip my morning coffee and breakfast to head straight to my home office for the day.

Around 3:00 p.m. Eli calls to tell me he's on the way to pick me up to go to the gym. I was so focused on my work all day that I skipped lunch and avoided snacking all together. And unlike yesterday, I'm a little more determined to go to the gym. Don't get me wrong, my muscles are still sore and I know Victoria is going to put me through hell, but if I keep getting the same results I've been getting the past few days I'm going to be back to my normal weight in no time.

Clocking out of work, I exit my home office and go to our bedroom, throwing on a quick gym outfit that consists of shorts and a baggy T-shirt. I check myself out in the bathroom mirror, deeming my outfit acceptable, and before I leave I find myself stepping back onto the scale, realizing I've lost another point six pounds from this morning.

Elated, I practically sprint out the door as soon as I hear the rumble of Eli's engine and the garage door opening. I climb up into his truck and he drives me the few blocks to the gym, dropping me off at the front door before taking off down the road to his own gym.

I walk into the gym, ignoring the sudden rumble of hunger in my stomach, and spot the shark—Jeremy—hard at work, luring in another guppy to sign their life away to his gym. But maybe I'm thinking too bitterly—judging by my results already. Maybe signing my life away to a commercial gym is just the kick in the butt I needed to turn my life around.

After signing in at the front desk, I go to the back corner of the gym to find Victoria, looking as pregnant as ever. She starts me off with some stretches and fifteen minutes on the treadmill to warm up before really laying into me. About halfway through my workout when I'm sweating and breathing like an absolute pig, my vision starts to go spotty and I suddenly feel lightheaded while in the middle of doing a dead lift.

I set the bar down—the weights meeting the floor with a sharp, rattling clink—squeezing my eyes shut and trying to labor my heavy breathing.

"Come on, Claire. Don't quit. Let's go," Victoria urges sternly, thinking I'm giving up because I'm too tired. When I don't pop right back up I hear something scrape against the floor, and I automatically know it's the puke bucket because I heard that dreadful sound replaying in my nightmares last night. Me and that bucket became BFFs yesterday, but I don't need it right now. At least, I don't think I need it. "If you're going to throw up, do it quick, we don't have all day."

I take one last deep breath before forcing myself to stand and finish the rep. I manage to pull the bar up twice before I feel faint again and my body gives out on me. My vision goes dark and a ringing in my ears muffles the noise of the weights crashing to the floor as I fall forward.