Mom back to shape

"Can we talk for a second?" my mother asked as I was watching the football game. "I need a favor from you."

My eyes were still glued to the TV. "Sure, but can this wait until later? This game is almost over."

She picked up the remote control and shut the tv off.

"Hey! I was watching that!"

"You can read the results online or catch the replay on the news, I really don't see what the difference is anyway," she replied sternly.

"Fine, what can I do for you mom?"

She lifted the bottom of her t shirt to reveal a soft, curvy stomach. She had given birth a year earlier which had left her with a decidedly feminine shape. At the time, I was 18 and her eldest son. She, at 42, was still as gorgeous as ever, despite what she thought about her newfound midsection.

Being in shape always meant a lot to her. She still had a fit body, which was built by long distance running and lots of yoga in her bedroom. Her arms and legs still looked tone for a woman her age, or any age really. The extra weight she put on really bothered her as she poked at it.

"That's what you can do for me," she replied, poking at her belly a few more times. "I've gotten my energy back since delivery, and I desperately want to get back in shape. It's not easy at my age. Do you think you can help push your mother with a good workout routine and some motivation? We've still got a lot of old gym equipment in the garage that we could use."

"Mom, you're being way too hard on yourself. You look great the way you are. I'm serious."

"Thanks, but I still love being fit while I can still do it. It's a healthy obsession, I'd say."

I gave her a skeptical look. "It would be kind of awkward, don't you think? You know, with me having to watch you do reps with weights and all that. Why don't you go to the gym instead? They've got all the best equipment, not to mention that they have personal trainers who are used to dealing with women your age... no offense mom."

"Gyms today are so crowded," she scoffed. "Plus, you know how much of a clean freak I am. All of the machines and lockers have got to be covered with germs and bacteria; I read about it on the news."

"Seriously? I walked past the gym at the mall and it was less than half full. It looked spotless as well. There are a lot of regulations nowadays about cleanliness too. There's antibacterial gel all over the place."

She sighed. "If you want the real reason why I don't want to go the gym anymore, it's because it's filled with students of mine, and the last thing I need is for them to see me working out. And I especially don't want any of my future or former female students seeing me naked while I'm in the locker room."

"I guess that makes sense."

"So what's it going to be, mister?"

"Well, it looks like I'm not in a position to argue with you," I replied.

"No, you're certainly not," she said with her arms crossed and a stern look.

"Okay, we'll start whenever you're ready. I'll try to think of a routine which would be perfect for you. Not too easy. Not too hard. Just right."

A big smile appeared on her face and she bent down to give me a hug. "Thanks! I knew you'd see it my way. We'll start tomorrow after I buy something proper to wear."

***

And so it began; every so often my mother and I would meet in the open area of our garage to work out. It started out simple enough, with her wearing sweatpants and a thin sweater. I had her doing basic exercises to begin with, such as a warm on the stationary bike, followed by light weight-lifting and stretching. Or we would spend the entire session doing strictly cardio.

And as time went on, months and months, her fitness casually progressed and so did the confidence she had in her already beautiful body. She started wearing tight spandex pants along with more tightly fitting sweaters on top. And I had her doing more intermediate exercises to go along with all of that.

She always made a point of thanking me whole-heartedly after every workout because she still had assumed that me being her 'personal trainer' was still a real drag on my time. But what she didn't know, and what I obviously didn't want to tell her, was that I was starting to enjoy our sessions a lot more than I was letting on. It's one of those things where you don't know how it happens, but it just does. Maybe it had to do with the fact that we became even closer with the extra time we spent together. Or maybe it had to do with how good and vivacious she looked each time.

***

"That's it, one more rep!" I yelled in encouragement as my mother finished her dumbbell rows.

She dropped the weights when she was done and shook her arms around like I taught her, to relieve the tension.

"Phew!" she sighed, breathing heavily. "You've really been stepping up these workouts lately. God, I'm exhausted, but I feel great. I don't think I've worked out this hard even when I played sports in college."

"Well, it's only because you've been improving so fast and your endurance keeps getting better. You're a real natural at this."

She smiled and lifted her arm to flex her bicep through her clothes. "Thank you. I guess our family has good genes."

"If that's the case, we better hurry up and finish up this last part of your circuit while your heart rate is still up," I said, pointing to the workout bench for her to do her dumbbell presses. "You get better results that way."

"Hold on a second, this sweater is killing me."

My mother casually turned around to pull her thin sweater off and placed it neatly on a nearby table. She stood in her sports bra and took a sip from her water bottle, completely oblivious to the fact that I was in awe over her sculpted body. My eyes quickly glanced around the trickles of sweat glistening on her lower