Emily grinned proudly and addressed the table. “The kids know they only eat refined sugar once every other month.” To Gregory she said, “I can do even better than that!”
She turned toward Thomas. “Darling, will you ask the staff to bring out the date carob blueberry sweet potato tarts with the almond flour crust for the children?” She smiled at us, “I made them this afternoon.”
Kimmie spoke up, “If it’s okay, I’d love to try one of the tarts. I’m on a cleanse from refined sugars myself. Ashley, would you like one?”
I looked up from the piece of cake I was halfway through devouring and licked a glob of chocolate frosting from the corner of my mouth.
Before I could speak, Kimmie cut in. “Never mind. You look preoccupied.”
Later, in our room, Kimmie couldn’t stop raving about the night.
“Emily and I really hit it off,” she gushed, sitting at the vanity, wiping makeup from her face with huge cloths. “I’d consider the night a win.”
“Yeah, you really nailed it,” I responded dryly, crawling under my sheets.
As I fell asleep I made a note to self: Don’t trust Kimmie.
Thursday, March 7, 5:45 A.M.
My alarm beeped, waking me up with a start. It wasn’t until I saw Kimmie standing in front of the mirror adjusting her top knot that I remembered where I was. I sat up. My body felt strange. I arched my back a little and tried to figure out what it was. It took me a minute to realize that what I was experiencing was...being rested. My mind was crystal clear. There was no pain behind my eyes. No sluggishness in my legs.
I felt rested. I hadn’t felt like this since before Aubrey was born. I tried to wrap my head around the reality that some people feel like this every day.
“Good morning, sleepyhead,” Kimmie sang. “Ready for yoga?”
I fake smiled in her direction and got out of bed. Rummaging through my suitcase I found a pair of sweats, sports bra and tank top. In two minutes I was dressed. As I leaned over the sink brushing my teeth, I heard Kimmie gasp.
I looked up. She was staring at me in abject horror. “Is that what you’re wearing?”
I glanced downward at my blue-and-white tennis shoes, light gray sweats, black tank and blue zippered hoodie.
“Yes?” I asked.
Kimmie just scoffed before turning back to the mirror to perfect her cat-eye eyeliner. I took in her outfit.
Black and silver expensive-looking tennis shoes, skin-tight hot-pink Lycra leggings with black stripes going down the sides, a matching crop top that accentuated her perfectly flat stomach and a black headband. She looked like a fitness infomercial. I noticed the EW logo on the back of her pants.
“Is that from—”
“Emily Walker’s line? Yes. I own every item. Ready to go?”
Next to Kimmie I was going to look like a garbageman making his weekly rounds, but we headed out anyway.
“No makeup?” Kimmie asked, as she shut our door.
“It’s exercise.”
“It’s yoga,” she corrected me.
It appeared Kimmie was right, because when we arrived at the South Lawn, there were only five other moms, and all of them were wearing makeup and Emily Walker’s line of activewear.
“Good morning, ladies!” Emily was beautiful as always in a purple-and-white ensemble. “I’m tickled pink to see so many of you wearing my line!”
Her eyes settled on my hobo wear and she smiled sympathetically.
“I’d like to introduce you to Sven—if you read my blog, and I assume that you do, you already know he’s my dirty little wellness secret.” I heard one of the moms giggle.
Sven was six foot four of pure Greek male model. His dark brown hair accentuated his bright blue eyes. To the surprise (delight?) of many of the women, he was wearing only a small pair of black short shorts.
“Okay, everyone,” Sven said with a deep Eastern European accent. “Grab a mat.”
Sven and Emily led us through a variety of poses, each one more painful and impossible than the last.
“If you’re a newbie to yoga, don’t hesitate to take a break when you need one,” Emily said, looking directly at me.
By the end I was a sweaty mess. I could see why everyone opted for synthetic materials. I had huge sweat stains in each armpit, a large one on my back, and to top it off, an embarrassingly large one in the crotch of my pants.
“Ashley, did you have an accident?” Kimmie asked in front of the entire class as we finished sitting cross-legged in deep meditation—a pose that exposed my swamp stain to the world.
Sven opened his eyes, looked at me and turned red.
“It’s normal to experience these things during yoga, especially when your pelvic floor has weakened due to childbirth,” said Emily calmly.
“I didn’t pee. It’s sweat,” I said, humiliated, standing up.
“Yes,” said Emily, obviously trying to preserve my dignity.
Kimmie snickered.
As we were stacking our mats, I placed mine on top of the pile.
“You can keep it,” Sven whispered in my ear. I was mortified.
I assumed my nickname had morphed from Tush Girl to Pee Girl and ate my breakfast in my bedroom. Emily’s assistant had been kind enough to grab me a muffin so I wouldn’t have to face anyone.
I opened my computer and checked the time—7:15.
I had an email from David.
Hello supermom,
Everything’s fine, don’t worry. My mom is taking Aubrey to the zoo today. I hope you’re enjoying yourself. A Realtor came by and said we can probably get market value for the house. Have a good time.
Love, David
I’d almost forgotten about the house. Unless I won the grand prize tomorrow, and things weren’t looking great, we’d be moving in with Gloria soon after I came home. I snapped my laptop shut and took a few deep breaths. It wouldn’t be that bad. At least I’d always have help just an arm’s reach away...and eyes watching me all day long. I guess roaming the house in my underwear eating chocolate-hazelnut spread right out of the jar was out of the question.
I thought At least I have the La Lait moms, but remembered that after telling the truth, I wouldn’t. I’d be trapped in Gloria’s house all day and night. There was no way around it. I had to win this contest. I grabbed the schedule off of the vanity.
8AM Basket and Dream Catcher Making in the Craft Room.
Oh, crap. Crafts.
Janice and Lauren were sitting on either side of Emily at the long wooden bench table when I arrived. I had showered and changed into dark blue jeans and a pink Emily Walker sweatshirt—David gave it to me the night before I left and I figured this was the perfect time to wear it.
“Hi, everyone!” I said cheerily. Almost everyone was at the workshop, including my roommate, who was seated directly across from Emily. I took my seat next to her.
“Hi, Kimmie!” I said, forcing cheerfulness.
“Hi, Ashley,” she responded with an equally saccharine tone. “Missed you at breakfast!”
I flipped my hair over my shoulder. “After yoga I like to spend some time in quiet meditation in order to realign my—”