The next few days, after every workout and meal, I would step on the scale only to be furious at the numbers not going down. It was always so disappointing to see. I couldn’t stop thinking about those guys making fun of me at the park. If I got the weight off, then that wouldn’t happen anymore. I would probably be a lot happier, too. I could probably fall in love, I would be able to take my shirt off at the beach, and be able to play sports. The opportunities that came with a healthy body seemed endless.

I also thought about Mel. I wondered if she thought I was gross. I thought she was beautiful. She was very no-nonsense, but also made time for me and let me be honest about my insecurities. That was what I liked about her. The next few days, she helped get my butt in position with planking, and I could feel myself being able to stay in position longer each time. Everything felt a bit easier as my body began getting used to it.

“All right, weird boy,” Mel said. “Twenty-six, twenty-seven, twenty-eight.” She counted my leg lifts again. We were in the same spot as before. She had convinced me to come back to that spot, and said if anyone messed with me she would give them an ass kicking.

“Twenty-nine!” she yelled.

That was the furthest I had made it into the leg lifts. My body was in so much pain, but I still had fight in me. I could feel my muscle building itself up, and I took a deep breath and gave my legs one last lift to thirty. Mel jumped with joy and landed right on the grass to hug me.

“You did it!”

“Yeah,” I gasped trying to ignore the pain in my legs. “I friggin’ did it.”

“Wanna get up?” she asked.

“Not yet. I just wanna chill.”

We both laid in the grass and looked at the clouds. We joked, giggled, and gazed at the sky for a while.

“You should get some food,” she suggested. “I can cook you up something if you want to come over.”

“No. I’m okay,” I told her. “I, uh . . . I have to go home and do some stuff.”

“Like what?”

“I’m gonna go home and weigh myself.”

“Are you dumb?”

Dumb? Why would I be dumb for wanting to weigh myself?

“I want to see my progress,” I explained.

“No, dude. You weigh yourself in the morning. Not in the middle of the day. Throughout the day your weight fluctuates, and it’ll just make you upset.”

That explained a lot.

“Oh,” I said.

“Oh?” Mel replied. “How often do you weigh yourself?”

“Like . . . three times a day.”

“Dude.” She shook her head. “No. Stop doing that.”

“Why? I just want to track it.”

“You’re only supposed to weigh yourself like once every two weeks, otherwise you’ll just get frustrated.”

It made sense. If my weight was going up and down during the day then it was pointless to keep weighing myself so excessively. I just hadn’t known about that before.