Dinner With The Mother

You’re too kind, mother. You let them trample on you all the fucking time ~ Caspian Riordan!

“20, 21, 22, 23, 24, 25, 26,” Anna groaned as she changed from the triangle yoga pose to the tree pose, her breath rough and fast. Guided by the voice of the yoga instructor emanating from her phone, she carefully extended one leg to the side and lifted her hand above her head, trying to find her balance.

It was early in the morning a day after the party, a decent time for exercise and she’d decided to start a new morning routine. It was all Caspian’s fault for introducing her to all types of dishes and making her a glutton. She’d been bloated for a while and Dali had advised her to make time for yoga in the mornings. That way, she could keep a good waistline while eating whatever she wanted. She won’t get bloated or belly fat. Sounds good.

Stretching for a while, she resumed the position, breathing heavily, tired but too determined to give up. She’d have to continue at all costs for a healt