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New Year’s Resolution - Chapter 1

Tags: intro, no sex
A journey back to living.

New Year’s Resolution - January


I hurt.  Everywhere on my body hurts: legs, ass, back, arms, chest.  And I swear even my hair seems to scream in pain.  “Diane,” I think to myself, “how did I get here?”


December 25, 2016


The holidays used to be a happy time for me before the death of my wife Diane a year and a half ago.  I remember when the kids were small we used to stay up most of Christmas Eve wrapping presents, putting together toys, drinking a little too much, and then make love whenever and wherever while the children slept in the hopes Santa stopped by the house.

 Now, I am just trying to put on the façade of enjoying Christmas when all I really wanted to do is go downstairs to my man cave, drink beer, eat whatever was handy and watch a whole day of football. But with the kids here for a few more hours before leaving for their ski trip their grandparents planned for the winter break, I guess have to suck it up and stick it out.

“Dad?” asks my daughter Erin

“What honey?” I reply.

“Are you okay?” she looks at me with worry.  “You seem to be a million miles away.”

“Yeah dad, Erin and I are getting a little concerned about you,” my son MJ says glancing at his sister and then back to me.

“I’m alright” I whispered, “I am just a little blue thinking about your mom.  I wish she was here with us so she could see how both of you are doing in college and growing as people knowing she would be proud.  I never thought of it before she passed but the sharing of everything we had between us was all encompassing.  She is missing on a lot of events I wish I could share and can only hope she is proud of me.”

“We miss her too dad and I have no doubt she is pleased the way you have been a rock to us.”  Erin chokes with tears in her eyes as she comes to give me a comforting hug.

“Okay then, let’s take a few minutes, regroup, and let’s start opening presents.”


“I seem to be notice a theme to what you, your sister, and Santa have given me this year.  Let’s see: 3 gym shorts, 3 exercise type t-shirts, multiple pair of sweats, 2 pair of sneakers, and the ever popular dad gift, socks, “I say with a conjured smile.

Erin got up to come sit next to me and MJ to stood and sat across.

“Dad,” Erin taking my hands and looking me in the eye, ”MJ and I are worried about you, seriously worried.  Ever since mom died you have not been able to get back to life.  Sure, you work here at home and Skype with us most every week so we stay close.  But Dad, you are only 39 and too young to sit here and do that for the next 30 years.  And at this rate maybe not that long.”

“What are you talking about?  This is what I do.  I worked hard when I was younger and can work from home.  I can program about anywhere.  And I love our weekly visits,” I say sternly on the verge of being mad, upset, and scared.  I’m not sure which.

“Dad,” MJ said quietly to counter my emotion, “We lost mom because of cancer we could do nothing about.  By the time she was diagnosed, it was already too late.  And as painful as that was, watching you kill yourself, it twice as hard.”

“Again, what the hell are you talking about?” I say standing up screaming looking at MJ and then Erin.  This is not the way I envisioned Christmas this year.

With tears streaming down her face, her mother’s face, Erin says, “Dad, have you noticed how much weight you have gained since mom died?  We both let it go because at first we were all grieving but have you noticed how much bigger your clothes are.  I do most of the laundry when we are all home, and I’m scared for you, and for us.  We lost Mom, we love you and don’t want to lose you too.”

She got up and got my stocking down from the mantle over the fireplace and brings it to me.

 “You have one more gift from both of us as well as grandma and grandpa.  We all chipped in and got you the VIP package at the gym down the road for the year.  It includes use of all the facilities which include: pool, sauna, hot tub, personal training, classes, a massage once a month, a nutritionist on call, and 3 doctor checkups.  I made your first checkup, scheduled for January 2 at 9:00am at the gym for an initial baseline.”

“I, we, hope you use it.” My son says, “At least, you get out from behind your desk and out of the house.  At most, maybe you could find people your own age you can talk to and get back to living like mom would want.  I need to go up and finish packing for the trip.  Love you, Dad, Merry Christmas”

“Merry Christmas daddy, love you,” My daughter says and exits.


After the kids leave I am where I thought I wanted to be, in my comfy chair in my man cave eating, drinking and watching football but can’t settle.  I am half watching the game and half thinking about the conversation earlier.  Am I really that much in denial?  Am I really at risk physically?  I know I gained some weight but I lost my wife, my partner, my other half.  Why wouldn’t I go under for a little while?  Who wouldn’t?


January 2 2017


Here I am, at the gym about to get the baseline physical.  Ever since Christmas, I have been waging a war in my head what to do.   The kids never brought the subject back up when we talked on the phone.  They knew that the decision was mine and mine alone.  I don’t know if I’m making the right choice, but if both of them have thought this through, and I’m sure they did, there must be something I have not seen.

“Michael Hayes,” calls the nurse.


“Follow me please.”

I am lead down to one of the exam rooms.  It is your normal room for a doctor’s office but I wonder how this and the gym are associated.   It has all the usual stuff, laminated pictures of various joints, the potential injuries, and what may have caused them.  The table with the paper draped from the enormous role of paper at the end.  Plus, it has all the diplomas and certifications of Dr. William J. Miller, who I guess I’ll be seeing shortly.

“Your blood pressure is a little high, so is your heart rate. “Says the nurse and snaps me out of my daydream. “Are you on any medication or take anything on a regular basis?”

“No, nothing.”

“”Okay, let’s get your height and weight.”

I step on the scale and watch as she moves the counter weights over, and over again and again until it finally rests on 331.  I feel my heart stop, go lightheaded and grip the wall for support.

“Mr. Hayes, are you all right?”

“I don’t know.  Are you sure this is accurate?”

“Quite sure, we zero out the scale before the first patient of the day and you’re it.”

“Okay, give me a minute.”  I knew I gained some weight but never thought it was that high.

“Let’s go back to the exam room,” She says walking back to the exam room, “Would you like some water?”

“That would great, thanks.”

The nurse returns, hands me a cup and lets me know that the doctor will be right in. Five minutes later I hear the knock, and in walks the Dr. Miller, at least I hope so.

“Michael Hayes, William Miller, nice to meet you.” We shake. “So, what brought you in here today?”

“Well, long story short, my kids and parents got me the VIP membership at the gym for Christmas and here I am.”

“Okay, let’s check you out.”

45 minutes later there is not a part of me that hasn’t been touched, prodded, pick at, and examined closely.

“Mr. Hayes…”

“Call me Mike, since I feel you know me intimately now,” I say smiling at the doctor

“Then call me Bill,” smiling right back at me,”Okay, Mike the bad news is you are overweight, dangerously so, have elevated blood pressure, and if the tests come back as I would expect, high cholesterol and maybe pre-diabetic.

“Okay, Bill don’t sugar coat it, give it to me straight.”

“The good news is you have loving children and parents and apparently your sense of humor is intact. Have you always been like this?”

“No. I am usually in good if not great shape.”

“Do you have an idea how you got this way?”

“Well, that is the long story.  A couple years ago my wife was diagnosed with cancer and died shortly after that.  I suppose that was the beginning of my downward spiral.  I work from home doing programming work sitting in front of the computer most days for long periods of time.  I have not really had an exercise regimen like I once had.”


“Whenever I think about it”


“I drink more than I used to but not often to excess.  Programming and hangovers don’t mix all that well.  Make a small mistake and it could be hours to fix it. “


“Yes please,” smiling into stern eyes, “okay, probably more than is good for me.  Usually coffee, cokes, or iced tea during the day.”

“Alright, here is what I propose you do. First, for your diet, start eating regularly.  That does not mean eating doughnuts for breakfast every morning.  Eat healthy, with your membership you can have a nutritionist come and evaluate and teach you what to eat and when as well as how to prepare some meals.  Second, cut off almost all caffeine and cut out all sodas including diet sodas.   Throw whatever soft drinks that have sugar attached to them away. They are empty calories and do nothing but damage your liver and kidneys.  Occasional adult drinks are fine but limit it to a total of two at one sitting.  Last, you need to sweat.  You got full access to every part of the gym, so use all of it.  Go talk to my wife, Maria, she is in charge of that end of the building and she will set you up.  Let me show you something first. “

He pulls out his phone and shows me a picture of a man that looks even bigger than me. “That was me about 10 years ago after soon after finishing my residency in cosmetic surgery.  Between the stress of med school and my duties at the hospital and then the specialization I did not notice anything until one of my clients said I could use some liposuction myself.  So, I know how the journey seems daunting.  I may not have lost someone as dear as you have, but I can help with your journey.  If you have any questions, advice, or just need support, call me.”


I got dressed and headed to the front desk but before I could get there I heard someone call my name.  It was an attractive woman, very attractive.  She had curves where they should be and what I would define as having a tight body.  She has light brown hair stylishly cut with soft brown eyes.  She was not a woman who would turn all the heads, but would absolutely demand a second look.

“Yes, can I help you?” I ask.

“Mike, you don’t recognize me?” she says with a big smile, "it’s Maria Taylor; we went to school together through High School.”

My mind was spinning trying to put the face and the name together. But the Maria Taylor I remember was as plan as a paper bag with a bad haircut and without any kind of feminine curves.  The person in front of me would not be described with any of those adjectives.

 “C’mon don’t you remember me?” She says still smiling.

“I remember a Maria Taylor but you look nothing like her.  If you are she, what was our second grade teacher’s name and what did we call him/her?”

“He was Harry Rose but we called him behind his back ‘Rosie Nosie’ because his nose was always looked sunburned.”

“Wow, look at you. You look absolutely great.  How have you been and when did you get in such great shape?”

“Well, in a nutshell, I went to college I got the freshman 50.  A few years later, met Bill when I had to go the hospital after falling down and gashing my head.  He consulted for the cosmetic portion.  He showed me his before picture and was in the process of losing weight, suggested if I wanted to take the journey with him and support each other.  Now, we’re married for eight plus years with two children.  How about you? Married? Kids? Job?”

“Well, I am a software programmer; I have two great kids, one of each both in college, and have been widowed for some time now.”

“I know ‘I’m sorry’ does not cover it but I am.  So, if memory serves you were a pretty good athlete in school and went to college for basketball.”


“And if I had to guess, you started gaining weight when your wife passed.”

“Again, true.”

“Again, I’m sorry.  I was here when your daughter came to get your VIP membership and made sure I was here today after you saw Bill.  I am going to make sure you get everything out of your membership.  Let me show you around and how things work and walk through the weight room.  Let me grab you a locker key for the VIP locker room. It only has 10 lockers in it but only seven are being used.  Also, it’s a co-ed locker room.  Bill and I have lockers in there as well as a few other staff members, so don’t be surprised if you see naked men or women in there.  If you are not comfortable, we can make other arrangements.  If you want to use your own padlock, feel free.”

The tour was about you would expect in a higher end club.  Equipment was clean with the latest model treadmills, elliptical, stair climbers, and machines I've never seen before. The trainers were in great physical shape and the pool area was well kept.

Back at the front desk, Maria hands me my key to my locker.  “One more thing,” she turns to a man stationed at the front desk,” this is Marco, your personal trainer for the year.  Marco, this is Michael Hayes, he has the VIP membership for the year and a special friend of mine.  I am putting him in your capable hands for the year.  Is that good with you Mike?”

“Sure, why not?  How much worse can it get for me?”

“Marco, put him through the gauntlet, novice level.  He was an excellent athlete at one point and your job is to get him back there.  Mike, this is day one, do what you can as hard as you can.  It will get better, I promise,” she says and steps in and gives me a big hug.

It occurs to me that I have not gotten a hug from anyone other than family since Diane passed.  As I squeeze, I fight back the tears trying to fall.


January 3


I hurt.  Everywhere on my body hurts: legs, ass, back, arms, chest.  And I swear even my hair seems to scream in pain.  “Diane,” I think to myself, “how did I get here?”

Marco put me through the gauntlet yesterday, at the lowest level, and this morning I woke not being able to move.  Slowly, very slowly, I roll to my side to look at the clock reading 8am.  As I attempt to lever myself up, the doorbell rings.  I stand on wobbly legs and an aching back, slowly, very slowly; I make my way down to the door, open it and see Maria there with a big smile on her face.

“You’re not what I imagined the Grim Reaper would look like, but I’m not complaining.”

“Good morning, and by that comment, I would say you are not a morning person.”

“Before coffee, I’m not any kind of person, come on in.”

I waddle, no other ways to describe it, to the kitchen, start the coffee machine.  I proceed without a word to the bathroom, relieve my bladder, retrieve Advil and take four.  When I return to the kitchen, Maria is leaning against the counter waiting for me with that smile still in place.

“I see you not doing well this morning.  I would guess that most of your body is sore, but the good news is I am here to help.”’

I’m thinking the only things that could help me would be some serious controlled substances but somehow I don’t think she has that in mind.

“I’ll bite.  What are you going to do to help?”

“Question first, how big is your bathtub?”

“It’s a whirlpool and big enough for two people, but if you want sex, you are going to have to do all the work. I really can’t move.”

“Smooth talker, go fill it up with cold water, put on a swimsuit or not, I’ll be right back.”

Still not moving because, hey, I hurt, I stand still dumbfounded as to what kind of torture she has in store for me.  Grabbing coffee, I go upstairs, start the water.  After 10 minutes go by, I am slowly getting my suit when hear someone enter the house and hope it’s Maria.  If someone is here to rob me, I can’t move to stop them.  She enters the bath with four big bags of ice.

“Hop in the tub and start the jets,” she says.


“No questions get in.”

I slowly get in the tub and start the jets and I fear I know what is about to happen.  When I get used to the water, my fear is confirmed, Maria empties all four bags of ice into the tub.  My only thought now is at least I don’t hurt anymore, in fact, I don’t feel anything anymore.

Maria breaks my thoughts saying, “You are to stay in there for 15 minutes, after that drain the tub and then a hot whirlpool for 15 minutes.  Dry off, put on some loose clothing so I can give you a good stretch.   I’ll be downstairs if you need anything.”

After the 30 minutes, I was able to move much better but far from perfect.  Just as I was putting on my t-shirt, Maria walks in and stops my breath.  When I saw her yesterday and showed up today, she had warm up clothes that showed she had a nice figure.  Now, she walks into the room wearing Lycra shorts and sports bra that showed she has a fantastic figure.  My eyes must have gone still and I probably started drooling.

“Thank you for looking like that.  It lets me know my hard work keeps paying off.  How are you feeling physically?”

“Between the coffee, Advil, and the whirlpool I am functional again. Thanks.”

“Great, let’s work the rest of the kinks out.”

Maria proceeds to stretch my body gently but firmly starting with my back then down my legs and rear before she asks me to roll over.  Pressing and pushing different spots I feel pain then pure pleasure as the muscle spasms and relax.  She is talking the entire time but I hear little to nothing trying not to cry from the pain or sigh with the pleasure.  I’m not sure how it happened but I fell asleep.  Crawling through the fog of the nap, I smell coffee.  I open my eyes to Maria back in the warmups, dangit.

“How do you feel now?”

I sit up, stand, and start walking around.  Not one hundred percent but a far cry from before. “Well, spank my ass and call me Sally.  I can walk, whatever you did, thank you.”

“Your welcome, I know what you needed because I was there at one point and Bill did this for me.  Now, let’s talk about goals.  What do you want from this year?”

“When I woke, I was hoping to walk again without pain.  Honestly, I don’t know.”  I told her of the conversation with my children on Christmas day and by the end, Maria had tears in her eyes. “The worst was watching my daughter with her mother’s face crying, that was hitting bottom.  So, I hope to get down to 210.”

“First thing is not think I need to lose 120 pounds.  You need to think about losing 10 pounds a month and even smaller, losing 2-3 pounds a week.  Now, if you succeed in achieving your monthly goal, I will sweeten the pot.”

She hands me a large manila envelope with some weight to it.  I opened the envelope and my time stopped.  I imagine I looked about the same when she walked in the bedroom earlier because I heard a chuckle through buzzing in my ears.  In the envelope were photos, lots of photos, of Maria in the altogether except all of them were blurred where her tits, pussy, and ass were located.

“Mike, if you reach your goal, you can see the real things at the end of the month.” With that last comment, she stood, walked down the steps, and the front door closed with a small click.


Special thanks to ChuckEPoo for your help and support.


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