Mother, May I?

Her glasses touch the tip of her nose. She scans the room to see if anyone is watching only to find no witnesses. Her fingers bang against the black keys alerting ears in close distance. She's typing too fast for work but fast enough for conversation and passion. Papers scattered along her desk, she has the world fooled. She is messy, yes, but on purpose. She is smiles and light giggle and hasn't been this way in months. As the office door opens she tries to adjust her face and the pace of her fingers. "So can I borrow your son and his stroller or???" she types. She's trying this new healthy living kick that has worked in some areas, and in others, not so much. The scale at the gym tells her the truth. Her friends, tell her lies. "Are you losing weight?," they ask sizing her up and down. She looks at her stomach and tucks her hands behind her love handles. "Um, sure, if you say so." She recalls the skinny girls and their wagging blonde pontyails running on treadmills. The bulky brothas in the back of the room draw her attention as they silently lift weights. Beside her is the grunting, pencil-thin Asian who shamelessly stares at the back of her butt.

She opts not to go to the gym of Saturdays, instead walks along a trail full of babies in strollers, seniors with canes and daughters to assist. The daddy pushing his little girl with her bright eyes and pink pajamas gives her an idea. She doesn't like to run, she's self conscious, her breasts hurt at every leap, and she doesn't do it like the others with their expensive running shoes and matching sports bras. A stroller could do the trick of increasing her heart rate. It's all about the cardio, right?

"Girl, I'm not letting you borrow my baby. You can take his stroller and use a babydoll," she finally responds. She imagines, and  laughs at how psychotic she'd look in public. "I hate you," she types with an LOL at the end. Her best friend is downstairs typing away laughing aloud in her office at her request. It's her third day back from maternity leave and with every passing minute misses "the boy". "You are nuts," she says.