My Journal of Weekend Write-Ins

Goal

"One more day," Donna exhaled. "Just one more day."

She changed out of her star pajamas into her form-fitting grey short shorts, her neon pink sports bra, and her matching sneakers.

Without bothering to shuffle the cards she picked out one of the motivation cards. "Begin," she scoffed at the card before throwing it out. Learning from her mistake she flipped over her cards and chose one.

"Endure. That's what I've been doing." She had been doing just that the last month, listening to the constant chatter of the peppy instructor who smiled regardless of what torture she was making them do.

It dawned on Donna, during the first workout, that the happy nymph was obviously sadistic.

"I hate you," she said before starting the session. It was a habit she formed that allowed her to press play.

How the woman managed to talk through jumping jacks and laughed through burpees was beyond Donna, who was constantly out of breath. But the true insult came from the shirt the sprite donned, I don't sweat, I sparkle.

Donna's mat was filled with puddles of sweat, but she kept going, despite her hands slipping during her most hated exercise, the plank.

When the torment came to an end, Donna stripped. Leaving the wet clothing in a pile, she stepped on her other nemesis. The numbers spun until they landed on a number Donna hadn't seen in over five years.

She hopped off the machine and danced. As she headed to cross of the final day on her workout calendar, she slipped on one of her sweat puddles.

"Marcus, I've fallen, and I can't get up," she shouted.

Her husband came running to find her naked on the floor. She saw him stifle a laugh, but none of that matter because she had finally lost those pesky ten pounds.