Total pages in book: 115
Estimated words: 106797 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 534(@200wpm)___ 427(@250wpm)___ 356(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 106797 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 534(@200wpm)___ 427(@250wpm)___ 356(@300wpm)
“I think I change my mind,” I said softly, not sure if I was really on board with what I was about to say or if I was just acting in the moment. Either way, the words were there. “About the trainer.”
Mom looked back to Dale who crossed his arms over his chest, a worried look on his face. “Are you sure?” I nodded, though my eyes stayed down. He sighed. “Don’t do this for some boy, Natalie.”
“It’s not for him.” Not entirely, anyway. I cleared my throat, lifting my eyes to meet his. “I need this. For me.”
Mom pulled me in for another hug. “Oh sweetheart, it’ll be okay. You’re so strong. I know you can do this. And Mason will kick himself for ever letting you go.”
I shrugged out from under her and pulled my arms over my chest to mimic Dale. It felt safer to stand like that. “Can I start tomorrow?”
Mom smiled softly and nodded. “I’ll call the club first thing in the morning.”
I felt the tears pricking my eyes again, but I somehow managed to hold them in check. “Thanks, Mom. Dale. Really.” I shook my head, my eyes finding the floor again. “I’m sorry.”
Dale frowned. “What on earth are you sorry for, baby?”
I shrugged. “I knocked a girl down tonight. I’m so big I—” a sob finally choked its way through my throat and my hand flew to my mouth. I shook my head as they both moved to comfort me, the tears I’d been holding back breaking free. “I don’t want to feel like this anymore.”
Saying the words out loud finally made me realize how far I’d let myself go. No matter how I had played it off in the past, my size had always bothered me — just not enough for me to care to make a change. But that night was the breaking point. I knew the road ahead of me wouldn’t be an easy one, but I didn’t have a choice anymore.
Mason had weakened me. And that night, his girlfriend had finished the job he started, successfully breaking me into pieces. They were scattered on the floor around me and I knew it was time to pick them up and start rebuilding.
I hoped I’d build a better me.
A stronger me.
And definitely — a smaller me.
I walked into the Poxton Beach Country Club just after two in the afternoon the next day. The club sat on the west edge of town, a large, grand building right at the front of our one and only golf course. I’d only been to the club for Dale’s parties and Sunday brunch before, and never once had I been curious enough to ask if there even was a gym, let alone ask to see it. As I followed a club associate through the large hallway toward the back of the building, I was regretting my word vomit to my parents. Yes, I had been upset. Yes, I wanted to start making changes — but was a trainer really the best way to do that? When we walked through the large glass doors and I found myself standing in a room full of slim, ripped, beautiful people, I was sure I’d made a crazy decision in my haste.
I definitely did not belong in that room.
“Your trainer is just finishing up with his last client,” the older woman informed me. She tilted her head toward a small fitness room behind the row of treadmills. “Go ahead and walk back there. He should be done soon.” She paused, her smile still radiant. I guessed she was maybe in her late thirties and her PBCC polo shirt was perked up by a set of what I was sure were very fake assets.
When I only smiled and nodded awkwardly, she turned to excuse herself, but not before adding, “And have fun. He’s the best trainer in this place.” She winked and I felt myself blush, though I wasn’t exactly sure why.
I made my way toward the small room the woman had referred to, crossing my arms over my body as I walked past the various members in their tight workout gear. I was dressed in yoga pants and a Poxton Beach High School t-shirt from homecoming two years ago with my thick hair pulled into a high, messy bun. I looked frumpy and I knew it, but with my body, I didn’t really know how to look otherwise.
When I reached the glass windows that separated the private fitness room from the rest of the gym, I paused, watching the two people inside. There was a man knelt down on the ground, his muscular back showing through the ripped up, wide-sleeved black tank top he wore. From that angle, I could see there was a woman on a spongy black mat in front of him.