Easy to Love You

What is wrong with me?

Last part of this chapter is rated R

The hurricane shattered the front door and my wood floor has a lot of water and glass on it, but we fixed it and that was the only damage we got. We cleaned up tree branches and other debris around, refilled the pool, and put the sandbags in the basement in case there was a next time.

It's been about a month since then and I've worked out every single day. I go on five mile runs every single day, only when Spencer is home so we can watch the kids, and I've lost about ten pounds, but still, I feel gross. I'm looking at old photos of me, sitting on the couch.

I used to be so...hot.

There's a photo of me in a bikini on the beach. It was a strappy black bikini...I threw that thing out years ago, but in the photo I'm standing by the bar in Sarasota on the beach. My thighs and stomach look tones. My skin looks so tan and healthy and free of stretch marks.

I was hot.

I find another one of me, I'm in a dark room, but there's a light on the side that lights up my face perfectly. I have on a thick gray sweater. My blonde hair is pulled back, a loose wavy tendril falling out. My hands are together, my thumb pressed against my bottom lip.

I was so fucking hot.

How do you get rid of stretch marks?

I find a receptive online and make the concoction quickly.

"What are you doing?" Spencer looks over my shoulder.

"Nothing." I shrug.

"Why do you have this photo out?" Spencer holds up the photo of sexy ass me in the black bikini.

"Because I used to be hot as hell. Look at that!"

"Jules, you still are."

"I will be." I correct him. "I'm going running."

"Have fun."

***

I love working out now. It makes my muscles ache and it feels so good. I ache so bad, I have to take ice baths, but it feels so great.

It's been three months since I've started working out and I lost all the fat and now I'm gaining weight again, but I'm gaining muscle weight.

I haven't tried on my old clothes. I haven't inspected my body in the mirror.

Now though, I'm standing nude in the mirror.

My breasts are bigger, but they've gone down a lot and they're perkier than they used to be after the kids.

My jeans I've been wearing when I was chubby don't fit anymore. I can't even get them to stay on with a belt.

I can lift heavy things like they're nothing, and last time I did a bench press, I did 315 pounds.

I'm so proud. Spencer is well past 400 but I'm comparing myself to the picture.

The stretch marks are gone from the concoction I found online, the flab in my arms is gone. My belly is tight, my thighs are muscle.

The only difference of twenty six year old me and thirty one year old me is I'm a lot paler now than I was.

I walk into the closet, pulling out one of my old black lacy bras and my matching thong.

It used to bunch up when I wore it so I just stoped wearing it.

I get my favorite pair of light blue ripped skinny jeans, and my tight black sweater.