Elizabeth Theriot


In the movie montage I get fit very quickly. First I struggle to complete three pushups and collapse on the floor, then I blend a smoothie, then I run very comically on a sidewalk, then I do a full set of pushups, then I outrun the thin people on the sidewalk, then I am doing push-ups with one arm, then my body takes flight like an endangered bird and I am farting fireworks across snowy mountain peaks, and my body sprouts with tofu pods and many varieties of moss, I am a strong slender moss-coated stem moving quickly in the rain, I drink up the rain like protein shakes and cannonball into the nearest reflective surface: a pond where a calcified Narcissus guards still the edge, so I kiss his silent lips and drape my sports bra across his shoulders, and I am now a water-lily. No one will find me here. If I turn to the side, I disappear.

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