Moore To Love Read Online Free Page A

I’m so proud of you!” Ashley beams.
    I wish I could be that excited about the torment ahead.

    An hour later, I swear to Jesus Christ and every saint, martyr, and Apostle that I’m going to die. Death by lunges wasn’t what I imagined in my obituary, but they better call the morgue because I’m done for.
    “Fuck!” I scream, keeling over and collapsing on the rubber mat.
    “Let it out, babe. Yell all you want, but you did it and lived to tell about it.” Jane kneels beside me on the floor, handing me a sweat rag and my water bottle.
    “Barely,” I manage to breathe, realizing that I did in fact live to tell the tale of the Lunge Monster and her evil queen, Squat Beast. “But—would you look at that? I still have a pulse.”
    “That you do. I’m proud of you, Leni. I wasn’t sure you had it in you.”
    “I was,” Ashley’s quick to interrupt Mandy at my defense. “You got this. I told you! And the first day is always the hardest, but tomorrow you’ll get back on the horse and—”
    “Tomorrow?” I nearly cry. Like full on, sobbing, weeping, throwing a tantrum cry .
    The three mocking bitches laugh, clearly ignoring the seriousness of this ludicrous situation.
    “Yes, tomorrow. And the day after that, and the day after that, babes. After you’re done down there on the floor, you’re going to come into our office and we’re setting you up with a weekly diet and exercise plan. This won’t be easy, Leni, but nothing worth it ever is. You game?”
    Can I say no? I want to say no. I really, really want to fucking say no. But I can’t. She’s right. It’s time to grab life by the balls—if I had any, I would have squatted them off today—and do this shit wholeheartedly. “Yeah, I’m game,” I whisper.
    “Say what?” Jane barks. “I didn’t hear you.” She cups her ear and leans down, waiting for my response.
    “Yes! I’m game! You happy?”
    “Yes!” they all shout in unison.
    “And you should be, too,” Ashley reminds me.
    And I am. I truly am so proud of myself for getting through this without giving up. It’s an accomplishment and while I’m certain this’ll be an uphill battle . . . I think I can, I think I can, I think I can.

    Okay, so screw the gym, this is the hardest part of the whole shebang. Willpower. I have none. And while I emptied my fridge and cabinets of anything unhealthy and fattening, I have no problem getting in the elevator in the hallway, taking it down to the lobby, and walking (exercise!!!) the three blocks to McDonald’s to feed my late night craving. But I digress.
    When I watch TV I like to snack, and I don’t care who you are but carrots and hummus are not considered an acceptable Late Nate with Jimmy Fallon accompaniment. I want chips, dip, popcorn, something with crunch that isn’t a raw vegetable! But I refuse to undo what I did today with Ashley, Jane, and Mandy. Forget about disappointing myself—I’ve learned to live with self inflicted guilt—I can’t let them down. They put their faith in me and I want to deliver. So, instead of laughing it up with my man Jimmy, I decide to call it a night before the temptation of food, alcohol or anything with a caloric intake over five comes knocking on my door.
    Tomorrow is a new day. I’ll be in pain, I’ll want to eat things I shouldn’t, I have to start my daily walking regimen under Jane’s instruction, and I’m not looking forward to any of it, but if I learned anything today, it’s that Ashley was right in that dress store the other day. I don’t give myself enough credit. I can do this. I will do this. G.I. Jane and Mandy, beware—you’ll make a gym lover outta me yet.

MY TUNE IS MUCH DIFFERENT this morning. Less a song, more a battle cry. “Ouch! Ooo. Eee. Ahhh.” I can’t even get my legs over the mattress without wincing. How the hell will I ever get them to walk again? The sore-beyond-belief lumps of dead weight that seem to have replaced my legs, protest everything my brain is