Read Ace Jones: Mad Fat Adventures in Therapy for Free Online Page B

it’s not, but it is an open class,” Olivia says, stepping into the circle. “Everyone is welcome here.”
    â€œWell, maybe we should start a private class, then,” Hot Pants says.
    â€œMaybe you should,” Lilly says. While I’m relieved to have her stand up for me, I still feel horrible for causing such a commotion.
    â€œWhy don’t you bring her back tomorrow so she’ll have some other hefty women to keep her company?” Ass Thong says. I look at Lilly, and she looks at me, and the room is silent except for soft music tinkling from hidden speakers.
    â€œWhy don’t you kiss my ass?” Lilly says. That makes me so happy that I want to cry. Now more than ever, I’m so thankful for her. Maybe she
will
be seen in public with me again!
    â€œOkay, that’s enough!” Olivia says, waving her arms. “This class is over. I will not tolerate this kind of dissension.” She looks at Ass Thong and Hot Pants. “Accidents happen, and you two don’t ever need to forget the first week y’all were in here.” Ass Thong and Hot Pants back down fast. Olivia looks at Lilly. “I’ll have to ask you not to come back if you use language like that again. And you,” she looks at me and I wish I could just evaporate on the spot. “With all due respect, you might want to visit our beginners class on Friday.” She turns to leave, and everyone starts getting their things to hustle out the door. Ass Thong doesn’t move. Hot Pants stands dutifully by her side.
    â€œI suppose I should apologize,” I say. The foot traffic going out the door slows as a few nosy ladies pretend not to be eavesdropping.
    â€œYes, I suppose you should,” Ass Thong says with a smirk. Hot Pants smiles, showing off her tiny little shark teeth.
    I take a step closer to Ass Thong, lower my voice, and say, “Well, from the bottom of my heart, let me say that I am truly sorry that you look like fucking Borat in that porn star leotard.” I look at Hot Pants. “And you, little sister, ain’t doin’ much better in whatever you call that. I’m no yoga fashionista or anything, but Jeez Lou-eeze, y’all look ridiculous. Good day, now.” Lilly snatches up our mats and we get out of there.
    â€œC’mon,” she says. “Let’s grab our bags and use the locker room upstairs.” When we get up there, we change into swimsuits and get in the hot tub. I apologize to Lilly for embarrassing her.
    â€œOh, I don’t go to that class anyway, so who cares?” But I can tell that she cares. We make small talk for ten minutes and then she has leave to get ready for school. I still can’t believe she gets up this early. Maybe people can change. On the way home, I pay attention to my thoughts like Rosemary told me to and one keeps coming back over and over: Maybe I can to change, too.
    When I get back to the house, I take a long hot shower and then head straight for my bed. When I get up at lunchtime, I’m so stiff I can barely move. Buster Loo, always on high-alert for monsters and such, has a barking fit as I zombie-walk down the hallway.
    â€œI can’t help it, Buster Loo,” I moan. “Mama hurt herself today.” I wobble into the kitchen and scratch around in the cabinet until I find some ibuprofen. I wonder if I should try to stretch, but I’m afraid if I get down I might never ever be able to get back up. I could get some meditating done then, couldn’t I? I pick up my laptop and hobble over to the sofa. Talking to Rosemary made me feel better, but I think I need someone a little more mainstream. I search online until I find a therapist in Tupelo who appears to be affiliated with the hospital system. Best of all, Dr. Sidney Carl’s fees are based on sliding scale according to a person’s income. I pick up my cell phone. There’s one credit card in my wallet that isn’t maxed out