So perfect.
Her friend Lacey was looking to lose weight, too, so the two of them came up with an exercise plan together. Now, a year later, both women had dropped a lot of weight. Mischa was giddy over having her body back, but she kept telling herself it had all been to help Lacey lose weight. That was it, no other reason. No other reason at all. Certainly not to get attention from other men. And definitely not to cheat on her husband ...
Am I really gonna do this? Am I really gonna do this? Am I really gonna do this?
Misch's thoughts pounded around her head in time to her feet pounding against the pavement. Most of the time, she told herself no.
But other times …
“Hey! I didn't ask last week, but you must have met your goal weight,” Lacey called out. Misch looked down at herself. She had actually hit her goal the month before – she'd lost another five pounds on top of that, and was working on toning up.
“Yeah.”
“You look amazing, Misch! I can't believe we did it! Mike must be so proud!” her friend cheered.
I am going to the worst part of hell.
They separated at the end of the block, but made plans to go out for drinks later that same night. Misch was flying out on Friday, which was only two days away. This would be their goodbyes – she would be gone for two months, possibly longer.
At home, Misch went into her bathroom and turned on the shower, letting it heat up while she took off her sweaty running clothes. She stood in front of a full length mirror, looking over her naked body. The same time the year before, she had avoided looking at her body. Now, she was proud of it. She'd taken it for granted when she was younger, because it had seemingly stayed in shape without effort. Now she had worked for it, and worked hard.
There wasn't anything terribly exceptional about her body, she supposed. She was on the tall side, almost five-foot-eight, with a standard figure. B-cup boobs and hips that were built to proportion, she was lucky in that sense. When she was young, her dancing had given her strong thighs and an ass that defied gravity – she'd gone back to dancing, taking classes and renting studios at night to get that ass and those thighs back.
She had dusky nipples that matched her lips, and her dark brown hair brushed just past her jaw, teasing the sides of her neck. Her eyes were hazel, usually resting at a honey-moss color. She felt out of place a lot of the time, not quite fitting in with any color, with any race.
She hopped in the shower and scrubbed up. Washed her hair and body before jumping back out and getting ready. Mike got home while she was still putting on her makeup. He came into the bathroom, talking about his day at work. He walked up behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist, kissed the side of her neck. She leaned into him, wondering if it would go farther, for once. Wondering how she would feel about it, if it did.
But of course, it didn't go anywhere. He patted her on the butt, like a content dog, then leaned against the counter and babbled on about work, playing with a makeup brush. She laughed and joked with him, booped him on the nose with her foundation. They made fun of his boss, then her boss. When she was done getting dressed, they kissed goodbye and she headed out to meet her friends. It wasn't till she was halfway to the pub that she realized something.
He never even asked where I was going.
The “boring shit” at work was what started her snowball of misfortune. Her mind wandered. She thought about different things, possibilities, opportunities. For a long time, Mischa tried to think of ways to fix her marriage – hence the suggestions of therapy. She'd also attempted to spice up their marriage, set up romantic evenings, tried to get dirty and nasty. Nothing worked.
So her mind wandered further. Would she have sex with someone else if she could? She sort of casually asked Mike what he thought of the idea of an open relationship within a marriage. Maybe she could have the close friendship with her husband in marriage, and seek sexual and physical satisfaction elsewhere! Problemo solved. But no, that idea was SHOT. DOWN.
She felt trapped. Suffocated, yet alone. This is not a subject a woman can talk about with her friends, especially when she'd already expressed her own distaste of cheaters. Hello, hypocrite. How could she explain that to anyone?
I get along great with my husband, we're super pals! He's nice, thoughtful, caring, sweet … but I really, really want to fuck someone else.
It sounded awful, but Mischa found herself feeling guilty – not because she wanted to cheat, but because she'd judged other people for cheating. Now that she was perilously close to being in their shoes, she understood. She understood so much.
It started small. Just an idea, that she could sleep with someone else. But then no, no, no, she couldn't do that, she wasn't that person. Then … well, maybe she could be that person. But no, no, no, who would want her anyway? She was fifty pounds overweight and hadn't dated anyone else since she was nineteen – she was twenty-seven now!
Then she thought … maybe she could lose the weight. Maybe she could get her old body back, and if she could accomplish that, something that had evaded her for four years, maybe she could give herself a treat.
Like a Nordic ice god …
No, no, no, she couldn't do that. She wouldn't do that!
Would I?
“Bon voyage!”
All her girlfriends screamed and laughed as she entered the bar. Misch laughed as well and sat down at their table, ordering a vodka-tonic.
They got appetizers and did shots. Most of them had been friends for years – Lacey had been one of the Target-summer-job crew, and had known Misch and Mike since they'd met. They giggled and got loud and got a little drunk.