Chocolate vanilla, part 1

This is the beginning of a fictional story I am writing. Every friday, I will post a new part of the chapter, so check back next week for the continuation. This is © by me - that means no stealing, plagiarizing, or using it for your english papers. Got it?


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I woke up that morning not feeling any different.

I didn’t look any different, either. Five foot eight, give or take a few centimeters. Three month old nail polish that chipped off everywhere except for my two big toes. Tacky, but I secretly liked the bright red Texas-shaped blotches polka dotting my pale feet. Like a vixen. Rawr.

I sat on my bed staring at my feet, at the toenails. It wasn’t even seven in the morning yet so there was no light from the window to really examine myself in the mirror for any changes. Too lazy to hop over the pile of crap left from the old furniture to turn on the lamp, and I didn’t really care. Seven in the morning. I could go running, I suppose. As long as I’m up and have absolutely no plans to collapse back into bed.

I haven’t had any physical exercise since I quit soccer in February. Time to haul ass. This black tank top I was wearing, that would do; but since when did it get so tight around my chest? I dumbly realized I fell asleep in my bra. What time did I crash last night? Don’t remember much. Only that I didn’t even have the energy to hop over the other pile of crap to get to the bathroom to brush my teeth.

I would have to find other pants. There was just no way I was stinking up my favorite Victoria’s Secret PJs. The only thing I was able to unearth from my closet was the average black capris with a white stripe on each side, the loose kind your mother would wear to the gym. In fact, I think these were my mother’s. All my other pants were still in the suitcase outside my room I was too lazy to unpack.

And socks, I’d need socks. And then I’d need to brush my teeth like right now. Breakfast was out of the question, I didn’t need extra cramps in my stomach. Extra because I was already sore in my ribs, my arms (strangely enough), and the inside of my thighs.

Which reminded me, I needed to call Natalie to ask her to take a little trip with me after she got off work.

It is so typical of us humans to suddenly strive to be healthy right after we screw up. In my defense, I’d been meaning to go running for a few weeks now. Our summer vacation in Spain gave little room for morning exercise, though, and it’s only my third day back. Light was starting to creep through blinds that haven’t been dusted since June thirteenth and I got a good look at my pathetic contemplative face. Stop thinking. Go run.

To be continued