She glanced at the tiny numbers on the top right corner of her phone. It was 5.57 in the morning as she stood outside the entrance door of the gym. The cold was was now starting to bite at her fingers, yet she still stood, awaiting the guy who opens the gate. She turned her coat collar up and wrapped her arms around herself to generate warmth in her body. The gym is supposed to open at 6 am, but it rarely ever does and somehow she's always the only one who's early and waiting.

She glared at the guy as he finally arrived and the doors opened at 6.09 am. She strode in hurriedly, already having wasted nine minutes of her strict workout schedule.

Entering through the door, she made her way towards the second floor where the treadmills laid awaiting her. Already in her track pants and a loose fitting tee, she glanced at the phone strapped to her arm and started with her usual rounds of stretching on the yoga mat laid on the floor. Twelve minutes of stretching, holding each position for thirty seconds and another fifteen minutes on the treadmills followed by a small break of three minutes to catch her breath and hydrate and then another ten minutes at a higher speed. Cardio followed by a full body circuit that targeted the muscles in her thighs, calves, arms and tummy. This is what her schedule screamed out at her. And she was a slave to it.

People often asked her why she chose to be at the gym at such an early hour. The reason was simple. To her at least. The earlier in the gym, the less amount of people staring at her, thus resulting in less anxiety and hence a workout gone great. The math was straightforward.

Now, many people will keep pestering her as to why she is uncomfortable with the stares of other people. Just learn to ignore them, they all said. As if she hadn't tried that before. The thing is, when you yourself hate looking at your own body, how can you be relaxed when strangers look at you? Yes, she hated how she looked. She hated her flabby thighs, her equally flabby arms, and over all, she hated the folds of fat on her belly.

Now, there was a time when she used to look like that.

Imagine thighs that spread to the size of Australia when she sat down. Arms that the sleeves of her t-shirts couldn't contain. And the belly. Oh, the belly that spilled out of her jeans like the adipose cells inside wanted to break out of her skin, like boiling milk spilling out of its vessel.

There was a reason as to why she always wore T-shirts that were a size bigger than what she actually was and long enough to cover her backside so that she wouldn't have to be a victim of the stares of random people. Oh yes, she wanted to wear dresses, and crop tops, and shorts and everything that all other girls were so confident to wear in public. She always envied them all. She tried to gather the confidence to wear it all, she really did. But that confidence was confined to the walls of the trial rooms and pictures in her gallery that only she ever saw.

She saw magazines, she saw movies, and all of those had imprinted a grotesque reality in her mind of how women should look like. No, she did not look like that. And at first, it didn't really matter to her. She knew that there was so much more to life than the world exhibited in the pages of the magazines. But as she grew up, life got complicated. She learnt the harsh reality that people are not what they seem like at first glance. A few bad experiences had made her lose faith in people, and now, it was almost like no one deserved her trust, no one deserved to know her insecurities. So she bottled it all up. And she was great at that. Maintaining a calm facade when there was an ever-growing storm underneath.

Having had enough, she summoned enough courage to really work towards keeping herself fit, not for others eyes, but to be beautiful in her own. And she persevered. Working hard like never before. And the results showed. Her body underwent a change that gave her confidence and a new drive.

But unfortunately, she lost herself along the way.

She tried to convince herself that she was doing this for no one else, but for her own self, so that she might be appealing to her own eyes. So that she might be confident in her own skin. At least that's what she told herself as she slaved away. Yes, she had become a slave to other peoples opinions and ignorant to her own beliefs. Now, she overworked herself for others. For the strangers that didn't care, that called her names only because maybe they all saw a little bit of themselves in her.

She was a woman that was well aware of her insecurities and was working towards defeating them, that wasn't afraid to be herself, as weird as she was. However, they didn't see a woman, they saw a target. But isn't that what the world is? Isn't that who the people in this world are? Ready to bring you down, ready to burn you. And this time, they succeeded.

They brought her down.

They burned her.

She let them win. No, she let them defeat her.

Who would be her saving grace? Her family, her friends, or even her own spirit? Or maybe just another stranger that she had prejudiced as being unworthy of her trust?

***********************************************************

Little did she know, that there was a person. A person who recognized the storm in her eyes, the restlessness of her soul, the agony of her body, and the hidden desire in her heart to be loved.

He recognized. He empathized. Because he had been the same way. The same broken person who was lucky enough to be surrounded with understanding people who helped him get back to himself.

And now, he wanted to help her.

Because when he looked at her, he didn't see someone unfit or unhealthy or all those similar terms. He saw someone utterly beautiful. Yes, she was so beautiful. She was so broken. She was so beautifully broken.

And he was hell bent on fixing her. Because deep down, he knew that she was worth fixing.

'Someone needs to tell her that she's perfect,' he said to himself.

'And I'm gonna be that someone.' He added further, as he approached her.

And that was the day when she was saved.

*********

Hello Guys.....

I hope y'all enjoyed that. 

I gotta be honest here. I had this story lying about for almost a year before I actually dared to press the publish button fearing one thing. Fearing that based on this story, some might think that I'm one of those body-shamers out here, and guys, trust me, I'm the last person who'll make fun of someone or judge someone based on their physical features.

Its just that I'm obviously not the fittest person out there, and sometimes, it makes me feel uncomfortable in public. And no one, absolutely no one should feel that way. Be strong enough to turn a deaf ear to those nasty comments or find someone who is your strength, your pillar. Thankfully, I have some awesome friends that show me that I am indeed a beautiful person. Shout out to lovFood, mendesun and PoojaGorale98 who are some among others who aren't on Wattpad.

Vote and Comment only if you like this story.  :) I know it's not as good as the first story I published.

Oh, and feel free to point out any grammatical mistakes if any.

Till the next time, (probably next year :P)

CumberWhovian.

P.S. Can someone make a better story cover for this? I suck at making covers mostly because I have absolutely no idea how to make them.

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