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working out. As overweight as she was, she felt miserable today. Her stomach growled alarmingly. She skipped lunch and spent the whole hour lusting after Ian the Unattainable. Now she felt like pigging out on cookie dough, changing her underwear, and skipping the gym altogether.
    “Fine, I’ll go,” Emily snapped angrily; aware Joan was like a yapping little dog when she wanted her way.
    “You won’t regret this .” Joan sounded smug over the phone. “Your thighs will thank me.”
    “I can’t even see my thighs over my stomach . Tell them I said hello,” Emily countered rolling her eyes. “You really are a heartless bitch. Do you know that?”
    “Yeah, but you love me anyway.”
    “Yeah, way more than my thighs ever will.”
    Hours later, Emily huffed and puffed, sweating profusely and swearing she pulled a groin muscle. She got off the treadmill. Joan wasn’t buying it. She made sure she followed through on her promise to give working out a chance. Sweating publically was never something that ever appealed to Emily. She was self-conscious of being watched. Joan assured her gyms loved fat people.
    When they retired to the sauna later, she was sure she pulled a groin muscle, wincing as she sat on the wooden bench. She sat next to Joan wrapped in a towel. She felt drained, both mentally and physically. Joan passed her a plastic bottle of water, a gloating expression on her face.
    “Do you feel the burn or what?”
    “I feel like I was tortured!” Emily snatched the bottle of water, chugging it down and glaring at her smirking friend. “This sucks! I hurt everywhere! I will probably walk with a limp tomorrow.”
    “It ’ll get better, trust me,” Joan assured her, refusing to buy into her pain.
    “It can’t get any worse,” Emily muttered and wiped the sweat beads from her forehead. Now she felt like she was being cooked; slow-roasted in her own juices.
    “You’re gonna hurt the first few days, Em. You haven’t used some of these muscles in a long time.”
    Emily was focused on one muscle in particular she hadn’t used in a long while . Her lower unit seemed to have a mind of its own now, clenching and unclenching whenever she thought of Ian. She refused to tell Joan about her new fixation, fearing her amusement.
    Emily knew that wasn’t the reason she didn’t tell Joan. Telling Joan would no doubt elicit a lecture about grief and end with her going to seek therapy. She refused to categorize these feelings as something triggered by Eddie’s death. How could something that made you feel so good be crazy or imagined? She was determined this secret desire for the Ambidor rep remain her own private torment.
    “I might be able to walk out of here without the use of a cane,” Emily said sourly, making a face. “I don’t think gyms like fat people, like you said. I think they act like they do, but they secretly hate us!”
    Joan giggled and shook her head. “You made the first step, Em. You’re doing something positive. You need to start with a healthy diet. Lay off the cookie dough. You know, you can get worms eating it raw?”
    “That’s a total lie!” Emily looked grossed out to the extreme.
    Joan giggled. “Alright it’s a lie, but that’s what I tell the girls when we bake cookies so they don’t eat all the dough. Just find a new love for carrots.”
    “I hate carrots,” Emily replied moodily, closing her eyes as she leaned back on the bench. “But I love me some cookie dough.”
    “See the prize, my friend.”
    Emily did see the prize, but it wasn’t a new wardrobe like Joan babbled on about. She imagined Ian as the prize to be won. In her fantasy, he looked at her with real interest for once, his blue eyes filled with desire. Her heart raced in her chest to imagine him beckoning to her, his smile definitely naughty.
    “ Oh, I can see the prize,” Emily whispered, grateful for the dimmed lighting so Joan wouldn’t see her dreamy expression.
    “You can do this, Em,” Joan said