What lies beneath

I wake up to do another work out. Another day. “Hey chat… build me a HIIT workout focusing on upper body and core”. Oh the day of AI. Somewhere, the internet says we shouldn’t use it. Cognitive dissonance tells me it’s convenient. I’m working on it. I’m working on it. I put both ear buds in, and play music that most don’t find motivating. My play list is designed specifically for what ignites the fire within me. It’s not upbeat. It’s not motivating. It tells its own story. I lift the dumb bells, do the plank jacks, and squat thrusts. I’m not even doing it for me at this point. Every movement is actually for him. That’s what I tell myself for an hour and a half while I motivate myself through each set. Let’s be so for real… it’s for me. God forbid a woman find a little push through. 567 calories burned and an hour and a half later and I’m sweaty and pumped for the day. I pour my cup of coffee and pretend the zero sugar creamer is any better for me. I hop in and out of the shout quicker than my kids put their shoes on in the morning, wrap myself in my robe, and sit at my vanity. My coffee is cold by now, and I can only assume that after years of the same routine… I must actually enjoy it cold. I have my cotton balls, witch hazel, and milky toner. I dab my lips with some Carmex while my face dries before applying retinol. It’s the skin routine that hasn’t let me down yet. Every morning I’m thankful that God blessed me with seven strands of hair. It only takes me thirty minutes to blow dry and curl. I know damn well that sentiment will change come noon, when the wind picks up, and suddenly all “volume” I convinced myself is there is no longer. It’s whatever! One layer SPF, a light coat of foundation, and a setting powder. My mom always said “less is more Ella”, and as I start to see my age through fine lines and dark circles, I begin to see that she may have been on to something. I no longer have the energy to contour, do my eyeshadow, and line my eyes with the faintest black line. That kind of face is reserved for moments that deserve it. I apply a light touch of mascara and another layer or carmex. One look in the mirror, and I’m less than pleased but ready to go. I think I wear the same outfit everyday. Obviously not… but other observers wouldn’t know otherwise. I light wash pair of jeans, and a black tee shirt will do. In my defense I have many different styles of black. Some more flattering than others. I clip my AirPods and my work badge to the same belt loop on my jeans, slide my phone into my back pocket, and slam the door behind me. I think I also eat the same thing every day also. A bowl of fruit, a bag of a smart popcorn, an on the go salad, my protein shake, and a protein bar for good measure. My water bottle still has ice in it from the night before, and thank God, because the extra six seconds it would take to replenish the ice is the six seconds I need to not make me late for work. I turn the key over in my car “another day, another dollar”. I think I say the same things everyday too. If my mornings aren’t the definition of monotonous then I don’t know what is.

I walk into work “God forgive me for I have sinned” I think to myself. He’s the first person I look for, and the first person I see. I keep my head and look down. I can’t be too obvious. Naturally he works to gain my attention. I think that’s the part I like. The part where he tries and I act oblivious. We both know it’s an act. I’m anything but oblivious. He gives me that adoring half smile and an “oooooh ya!” As he looks me up and down. It’s a nod of approval. It’s a gesture. And naturally my heart flutters. He takes the ordinary and monotony and turns it into something to look forward to. Some days I give him a little wink, other days I let it be the door to conversation. Today it’s a wink. Today he looks busy and I don’t want to disturb him. But like every other day he looks at as fuck with his biceps showing off, a tight blue shirt, and brown cargos. I day dream about what he looks like out of uniform. I day dream about far more than I should. Two day ago I leaned against the counter. He found reason to move in. He was so close I could smell his after shave. He reached over for something swiping his against my waist. I feared he’d feel my legs shaking beneath me. I’m sure he felt my tension. He moved in a little closer flashing me a handsome smile before walking away. I stood in silence. I was thankful he didn’t try to talk to me. I knew I’d have a brain glitch and forget how to speak. He grabbed a box and smacked it with one hand. He knew what he was doing. I knew what he was doing, and I imagined that hand smacking…. Well…. You get the point. I pass through his area on my way back to my car. I can feel him looking at me. I can FEEL him looking at me! I look back. He gives me a subtle sexy nod and a wink back. We play this game. Oh do I we play it well. I count the hours till I return. I rehearse what I’ll do, what I’ll say. The best moments are always the ones I never rehearsed. If this is all in my head…. That’s okay. Then my head is where I’ll stay.

El