Mystearica
Star
- Joined
- May 20, 2014
Anita Hope, or simply Ani, wasn't having a good time of things recently. Twenty-five, single, and all too aware of the reason why; she wasn't some waif-thin Hollywood starlet, the sort that men fawned over -- a fact reinforced by every billboard, every magazine, and darn near every TV show someone could care to name.
A few months ago, she'd finally started trying to improve things. First by working salads into her diet, then trying yoga, then going on walks, then an ill-fated attempt at poledancing in her own home that had ended with a mild concussion and a steel pipe laying in some junkyard somewhere. Just... nothing seemed to help. She'd even put an ad out for a personal trainer, someone that could come to her home and help her work out, free from the judgmental eyes at the gym... and within an hour, she'd received a message from a great-looking guy, offering his services for a pittance. Not that she needed to scrimp because of her parents' wealth, but... well, he'd seemed solid.
So she had started to work out with the man regularly, doing whatever he told her to do, and even still...
Ani looked down at the scale, frowning at it -- she'd gained two pounds in the past week. "That's not even fair," she huffed, pulling her tower self-consciously over her chest. He'd sent her a message earlier that day that they would be trying out a new plan, devised just for her, starting with a massage with imported oils, the sort that was supposed to boost weight loss and promote wellness, whatever that meant.
She pulled on her bra, a plain white garment, along with her panties before she left her bathroom. He said he'd be at her home around now (a nice home just on the outskirts of the city -- not too lavish, but just perfect for Ani without needing to have a roommate), but... She tightened her towel around herself, going to sit on the couch as she awaited the knock at her door, feeling awfully self-conscious just then.
A few months ago, she'd finally started trying to improve things. First by working salads into her diet, then trying yoga, then going on walks, then an ill-fated attempt at poledancing in her own home that had ended with a mild concussion and a steel pipe laying in some junkyard somewhere. Just... nothing seemed to help. She'd even put an ad out for a personal trainer, someone that could come to her home and help her work out, free from the judgmental eyes at the gym... and within an hour, she'd received a message from a great-looking guy, offering his services for a pittance. Not that she needed to scrimp because of her parents' wealth, but... well, he'd seemed solid.
So she had started to work out with the man regularly, doing whatever he told her to do, and even still...
Ani looked down at the scale, frowning at it -- she'd gained two pounds in the past week. "That's not even fair," she huffed, pulling her tower self-consciously over her chest. He'd sent her a message earlier that day that they would be trying out a new plan, devised just for her, starting with a massage with imported oils, the sort that was supposed to boost weight loss and promote wellness, whatever that meant.
She pulled on her bra, a plain white garment, along with her panties before she left her bathroom. He said he'd be at her home around now (a nice home just on the outskirts of the city -- not too lavish, but just perfect for Ani without needing to have a roommate), but... She tightened her towel around herself, going to sit on the couch as she awaited the knock at her door, feeling awfully self-conscious just then.