Frozen Hands [h.s.]

seven

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LAURENCE'S POV

It is Friday morning and I unfortunately have school today. My first class only starts at ten, so I am not in much of a hurry seeing as it is only eight in the morning.

I roll out of bed, humming to a random song. Once I am done stretching myself out, I quickly go to the bathroom to brush my teeth. I am not going to eat breakfast so it is fine. I take my phone out and plug it to my speakers, knowing I won't be bothering anyone with my loud music since I am home alone.

After I washed my teeth, I walk to my closet to find a suitable outfit for today. I am not one to dress up much, I usually throw on some jeans and a t-shirt or sweater, sometimes adding a few pieces of jewellery when I feel like it.

I am looking at my clothes when my eyes divert to my running shoes collection that is sitting next to my closest. Then, I know what I will do to fill in my spare time.

I quickly grab a pair of pair of black tight yoga pants (it is early in the morning so the weather is pretty chilly), a pink sports bra, a black tank top and a cute grey vest. I complete the outfit with dark grey Nike running shoes with pink detailing on them. I also slip on my Polar watch that indicates my heart rate along with the amount of calories I burn.

I quickly stretch my legs and arms and grab my phone and earbuds. Once I am outside, I immediately start running, the song "Work B**ch" by Britney Spears blasting in my ears. I head straight towards the park, and decide to run a few laps around the soccer field. Once I am done, I look at my watch. I still haven't burnt enough calories, so I push myself to run around the neighbourhood a few more times.

I just past my house for the second time when a sharp pain bursts through my chest. Gasping, I instantly stop running, trying to figure out exactly where the pain is coming from by touching different parts of my chest. My hand stops right above my left breast, where my heart is. I sigh. This has happened way too many times.

Once I've realized what is going on, I decide to go inside my house and not run some more, although I don't want to. When I am in the house, I start gently massaging the area, the pain slightly subsiding. These sharp chest pains happen quite often nowadays, but I don't want to go to the doctors about it.

I checked my watch. Heart rate: 68. Calories burnt: 816

"Not bad," I think to myself. I could've done better, considering it was an hour run but it's not my worst performance. It is only nine o'clock, so I still have plenty of time before I have to go to uni, since I live so close it.

I quickly undress myself, leaving me in my panties and sports bra. I stare at myself in the huge mirror in front of the double sinks. I look bloated. My thighs are meaty and jiggly. My stomach is odd, I have the weirdest bone structure that makes my upper body slightly more dominant than my lower, therefore have no waist definition at all. I look like a rectangle, and if you observe me long enough, you could say that I even have a slightly triangle body shape. I frown at my stomach, where my ribs and hipbones are covered in a thick layer of fat. I pinch it, sighing in disappointment. My collarbones are completely covered as well. My arm feel like sausages.

I quietly prep myself for the most exciting yet dreaded moment of my day; weighting myself. It is so nerve-racking. What if I gained weight? That would only make me feel awful. And even if I did loose some, I would never be happy.

I slowly step on the scale, closing my eyes and taking deep breathes. I count down from five to zero then open my eyes and peak at the number. 94.3. I gained 0.3 pounds. Although the logic part of my brain knew it was ridiculous to be upset over such a minor weight gain, I angrily stomp in the shower and wash myself, ignoring my ugly body as much as I can.