Growing up, I always saw exercise as a form of punishment instead of something to look forward to.  I watched as my older brother continually hurt himself playing football and wondered why anyone would want to willing put themselves through that kind of torture.  I joined a gym in high school so my parents would stop bothering me about being active. What they didn’t realize was that most of the time I would sit under the tree outside the gym and read books.  

The only reason anything changed was because I saw all the women in workout clothes.  Their clothes looked better and more comfortable than what I was wearing on a regular basis.  I finally resigned myself to try one of the aerobics classes.  Once I registered for my first class, I checked out an aerobics DVD from the library and plugged it into the DVD player in my parents’ bedroom.  Ten minutes in, I was breathing hard and lying on the floor.  I never thought aerobics would be hard. 

That’s when I saw the journal tucked between the mattress and wire mesh my parents used instead of a box spring.  Who did it belong to and why was it under the bed?  It had to have some juicy information if it was hidden under the mattress.  I quickly found out I wasn’t prepared for what the information that filled the journal.  And that I didn’t know my mother at all. 


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