This weeks randomly generated theme is:
A gym is the location, fear is the theme. A mirror is an object that plays a part in the story.
Ok, so here goes:
Just five more reps. I can do it. My arms are burning, quivering with the weight. It’s five pounds heavier than yesterday. I must do more, keep pushing, keep getting stronger. As I drop the weight it lands on the ground with a thump, echoing off the damp walls. A few other patrons turn to stare before meeting my eye and quickly finding something else to look at. I drop to the floor and bash out a hundred sit ups in quick succession, grunting my way through the last ten. Then I’m up again, over to the rowing machine, twenty minutes on the highest resistance. The sweats pouring off me now, but it’s still not enough. I feel the familiar sensation and reach for the bucket, catching the vomit just in time. There’s no chunks, no signs of food, just the faintest red hue from the protein shakes. I held it five minutes longer than last week. I wipe my mouth and go back to the weights, a volley of forearms, pecs & shoulders. My whole body shakes from the exhaustion. Tomorrow I’ll be better. Before I quit there’s one last object in here to conquer, the hardest one of them all, the only one I am afraid of.
I stand in front of the full length mirror, fighting the urge to look away. I’m not good enough, not fit enough, not ripped enough. If I was she wouldn’t have left. I won’t let that happen again. I must escape these feelings, I must keep pushing. I pick up the weights and start all over.
