"s**t!" I curse as Damian helps me plop onto the swivel chair in the bijou office of his gym.
My body is in excruciating, immense pain on my third day of working out. All of my body's veins are facing unprecedented muscle pulls. The worst is with my back; it feels like it's in shambles. Someone has to enlighten me once more as to why I'm even in this cursed gym.
This guy keeps reassuring me that the muscular pulls would stop in a few days. What precisely does a few days mean to him, huh? A week? No, because I'm positive I'll continue to feel absolutely terrible for the next four days. Then, how long? A month? I'd better stick with my figure. I am okay with my body just the way it is, and I love myself just the way I am. I don't know what made me try this sh*t.
Damn!
I'm not even sure
