I leaned against the deck railing in my over-sized white muumuu.
I watched thin, lithe, bodies cavorting on the sand, and let out a heavy sigh.
If I had ever been that thin, I could not recall.
I gazed at a man running at the edge of the surf . The sunlight illuminated each muscle of his perfect physique. As his stride lengthened, his muscular buttocks strained against the flimsy fabric of his speedo.
Sweat glistened on my forehead.
I glanced down at my rotund body and strengthened my resolve to get in shape at the resort gym. My Pilates torture was scheduled in fifteen minutes.
“Yes,” I told myself. Soon I would run down the beach, proudly, beside this muscled adonis. The firm, over-ripe orbs of my breasts would strain against my bikini top. My firm, tight body would elicit envy and lust from everyone on the beach.
I heaved from the railing to prepare for my workout. When I turned around I was startled to meet a green eyed gaze. The room-service waiter cleared his throat. “I knocked but there was no answer, where shall I leave the cart?”
The minute the door closed, I fell ravenously on the overladen tray of pies, cakes and pastries.
Exercise would have to wait.
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