It’s a week before I see Sands again.Â On the way home from the grocery store, I stop by her gym.Â She’s just finished an aerobics class and waves me into her office.
“I did it,” I say as we step inside.
“I told you not to!” she wails and plops into the chair behind her desk.Â “You can find a guy here for only $12 a month.Â How much did you pay?Â You paid double that amount, didn’t you?Â Triple?”
“It was a special offer.Â $49 for three months.Â But never mind,” I say as I squeeze into the narrow plastic chair in front of the desk and pray it doesn’t collapse.Â Its arms dig into my sides.Â Why did its designer think it necessary to make arms with such sharp edges?Â “I’ll probably delete my account when I get home.”
“So did you meet anyone yet?” she inquires.
“Yes and no,” I offer vaguely.
She peers at me suspiciously.Â “You did.Â You met someone already and you’re going to meet him for dinner.Â No way you’re going alone.Â Text me when you find out where you’re going and I’ll go there and sit at a nearby table and make sure he doesn’t slip you the date rape drug.”
“You’re over-dramatizing this just a bit, aren’t you?Â Yes,” I sigh, “I have chatted with a few guys and am unceremoniously dumped when they find out my weight.”
Now she looks at me like I’m crazy.Â “You’re weight is a topic of conversation?”
I shrug.Â “I feel bad because my photo only shows an extreme close up of my face and I want to be honest.Â I don’t want to lie to men.Â I want them to accept me, ALL of me.”Â I pinch my flabby upper arm for emphasis.
“Hence the extreme close up.Â That’s really honest, Bella.Â What else did you lie about?”
I shrug again.Â “I might have made being a stay-at-home mom sound a bit more glamorous.”
Sands lets her face fall into her hands and she shakes her head in disbelief.Â Sands is my best friend from way back.Â A shrewd businesswoman, she is a fitness instructor and owns her own gym with plans to open more.Â Why we are best friends, I don’t know.Â She has everything yet chooses me, the antithesis of everything she represents, as a friend.Â She’s tall and beautiful and obsessed with staying fit and a consummate flirt.Â She gets any guy she wants, though ninety-nine percent turn out to be jerks.Â While my problem is not meeting any men, her problem is meeting too many men at her gym, the problem being that most take off their weddings rings before entering the gym or hide the fact that they have girlfriends until after she sleeps with them.
“Like I said,” I continue, “I’ll probably delete my account.Â I can’t take more rejection.” Continue reading “Sneek Peak~~Chapter 4”