Sophie
52 kg and falling

A week later, after an hour of studying at the library, I jogged up Colma Boulevard and along the Alpine path, staying close to a group of men and women who jogged together every day. I didn't want to join their group, but I did want the nearby distant company and the safety of numbers. It felt good to be out jogging without make-up for the first time, as if a weight had been lifted from my body.
"Hey!" Someone called behind me. I looked around, almost tripping over a lady and her dog walking in the other direction. Max, dressed like a clown in a pair of red running shorts with a Hawaiian shirt barely covering his big belly, waved at me. His striped socks were folded double down to his purple and gray running shoes. I stifled a laugh and carried on jogging.
"Mind if I join you?" I could hear his feet pounding heavily against the concrete.
"Knock yourself out." We jogged on and I picked up speed subtly, it should be easy to outrun him if things got awkward.
"I just wanted to say sorry. For interfering. I didn't mean to get personal." He was breathing heavily, trying to keep up with me at my pace, like a giant Alsatian dog with its tongue dangling from its mouth. I didn't feel like he was hounding me, so to speak, he didn't feel like a psycho. It was sweet really.
"That's okay." I said, hoping his apology was sincere. "I'm sorry I yelled at you in front of everyone, it was childish."
It was cute that someone was looking out for me, but I didn't really need help with Ana, I knew where to draw the line.
"You've really lost weight though, are you eating?" He almost tripped over himself because he was jogging crablike so that he could face me.
"That's actually none of your business," I said, partly because it wasn't, and partly because I had skipped lunch and supper and had come for a jog to take my mind from my screaming stomach.
"So how's your boyfriend?"
"He's fine, thank you for asking."
"Tell me, does he know his tribal tattoo comes from the Southern Tahiti and not Maori tribe, and that it was only done on women? I've seen the same one on almost every guy in town, there's probably just one photocopy template at the tattoo shop, so..." Max stopped to catch his breath and I stopped too.
Was he right? Or was he just attacking the symbols I found attractive in Luke. It was funny though, if it was true. I might tell Luke later in bed. I jogged on, pulling my top down to cover my fairy-wing tattoo on my lower back. My tramp-stamp.
"Look, Max, please don't try to sabotage my relationship, okay? I'm not an idiot. We can be friends, nothing more."
"You're definitely not an idiot. But alright," he said, going red in the face, although coupled with the sweat and the panting it was hard to tell if I was imagining it.
He stopped and bent over, wheezing as he put his hands on his hairy knees. I turned around, jogging on the spot.
"Are you okay?" I asked, wanting to get back to my pace where the growling in my stomach didn't try to bully me into submission.
"I'll. Be. Fine," he panted and waved me away.
"You're an idiot." I said, and ran on, I turned back to look at him, feeling my facial muscles move to places they hadn't visited in a while. When I saw him staring at my ass in my yoga pants I made a point of wiggling it just a little bit as I ran. He didn't follow, couldn't follow. He looked up and smiled at me despite his exhaustion, sweat pouring over his face and down into his mouth. So disgusting. I ran on.