My cheek bones are coming in. Or rather my cheek fat is going away.
I’ve lost fifteen pounds now. Not that I was ever fat. Just fatter. When I stepped on the scale for the first time in forever a few weeks ago, I about had a heart attack. 200 POUNDS! How’s that even possible? It makes sense to me why you’d want to cut out after that. But with all the extra free time I have on my hands since you broke up with me, I’ve had plenty of time to hit the gym and get back into running. Now I’m back at 185. It’s a nice number to be back at. Your goal weight, if I remember correctly. Although you’re coming from the other direction, trying to gain muscle to get up to that. It always amazed me that you didn’t weigh more. You’re so muscular. And tall. Though still an inch shorter than me. I guess you don’t have any fat on your body. Or at least a lot less than I have. Or had.
But now I’m back at one-eighty-five. I’ve been working out like crazy for the past seven weeks. Five (sometimes six) days a week. Running between four and eight miles each day. I’ve even started lifting weights (I know, unthinkable) three days a week.
First I do my arms and chest on Tuesdays. Then Thursdays I do abs and back. And on Saturdays I have a day of free weights. Mostly arms and chest stuff. This is when I do dips and pull-ups. I know it’s not much. But it’s a start. I haven’t begun lifting for my legs yet. But I run so much, and I’ve always had pretty big thighs. So I’m not worried.
I also do four hundred crunches three nights a week. On some particularly starved mornings, I can even make out four of my abs. The upper ones. Nothing on the lower end yet. Though those are the ones I covet most. Who knew getting back into shape could be so hard. And time-consuming.
I’ve found that the best time to see my abs is in the morning, after I’ve gone for a run. I’ll come back all hot and sweaty, dinner digested from the night before and some of it even burned off already. Then I’ll hop in the shower – a cold one, because I’m burning up and hot water would fog the mirrors anyways. How could I see my abs in a cloudy mirror?
So after I’m done with the shower, I’ll swing open the curtain and there I’ll be, dripping water and thin, my reflection in the mirror opposite. (You know how my bathroom is set up. It’s got mirrors on two sides.) I’ll grab my towel and just barely cover up my groin. (A tasteful nude, if you will.) And there I am.
Since I’ve run that morning I already have my contacts in and can actually see myself in focus. My hair lays dark and flat, my chest and arms look nice and strong, my four abs will stick out if I crunch down a little bit, I’ll tense up and suck in my stomach to flatten it and my V (which I always had, it’s just more pronounced now) will cut down alluringly below my towel. Thank God for overhead lighting.
I wish we were still dating so I could send you a sexy pic. With my new phone, I know I’d get a good, clear image. (I’m a narcissist, I know. And so are you. That’s why we got along so well.)
Remember that time I was on vacation two summers ago? You sent me a sexy pic then. It was hot. You showed everything, dick and all. I got so excited about it that the next week I showed it to one of my friends. (Don’t worry, I covered up your dick. I just wanted him to see your chest and arms. I wanted someone to be jealous of my boyfriend because even then, I couldn’t believe that you’d decided to date me.)
I was with my parents on vacation that summer when you sent it to me. We were in Myrtle Beach staying at a condo there. This was back when my brother was married, so there were five of us sharing the condo. I had to sleep in the same room as my parents. Excruciating considering my dad is a loud snorer.
I still have the picture I sent back to you. It’s not much. I didn’t feel comfortable doing a full on sexy pic, not with my parents and brother and sister-in-law so close. So I unbuttoned my shirt and snapped a picture of my chest and stomach. I looked cute. Not sexy, though. That was in my pre-workout phase. I wasn’t fat yet, though. I just looked skinny. Not particularly alluring. You pretended to like it, even though I’m sure you were disappointed.
I wish I could take a picture now, on one of these post-running shower mornings, and send it to you. Maybe then you’d send me one back.
I’ve begun to forget how you look naked. I wish I still had that original picture on my phone for reference. I lost it when I got my new phone. For some reason it didn’t transfer over. You’re probably happy to know that I don’t have it. And soon it’ll be gone from my memory as well. Crazy since I’ve seen you naked so many times. I guess after a while even good memories fade…
But back to my fitness kick.
So (to refresh you)I’m working out five or six days a week and lifting three days. I’m even trying to take in more protein, though I haven’t yet invested in a tub of it like you. I’m still worried about my roommate poisoning it, since she does have a history of doing that. But I buy protein shakes from the local deli. (I found a new one. It’s closer than the one on 2nd Avenue. And way better. Cleaner. Less sketchy. Which is hard to find in my neighborhood. Also, it’s staffed by Spanish-speaking employees. It makes me think of Nadal, your neighborhood deli where we got sandwiches on so many drunken nights.)
I’m slowly getting into shape. I hold a 7:30 mile pace now for a seven and a half mile run. I try to run in Central Park. It’s beautiful. The Reservoir at night…there’s nothing like it. All the lit up buildings rising imposingly behind the tops of the trees. And last night the most magnificent crescent moon. It glowed up in the sky, like someone had taken a scythe and slashed through the black canopy of night.
Why didn’t we ever do late evening walks in the park? We really missed out. The main paths are all pretty well lit, so we wouldn’t really have to worry about muggers.
But I’m getting off topic. So many tangents today.
I guess I just wanted to let you know that I’m getting back into shape. Little by little. And it’s done wonders for me. This is the most attractive I’ve felt in a very long time…maybe ever. And it’s a good thing. The boost of confidence I’m getting helps offset what I lost when you broke up with me. So I guess I’m pretty much even now, and feeling really good about it.
Bottom line is: I look great now and you’re missing out.