Page 1 of Strict Daddy

Chapter 1

Ugh.

Mirrors.

Who invented them? Which sadistic pee-pee head was it that realised that if you polished up some glass and stuck something shiny behind it, we could see the world, reflected back at us?

Well, whoever it was, I want a word with them. A very stern, angry word.

So there I was, standing in front of the dang mirror, grimacing as I tugged at the waistband of my favorite jeans. They used to slide on like a second skin, hugging my curves in all the right places. But now, the denim dug into my flesh, refusing to budge past my hips. I sucked in my stomach, holding my breath as I wrestled with the zipper. It inched upward, the metal teeth straining against the pressure.

"Come on," I muttered through gritted teeth. “You can do it, Poppy, you can do it!” With a final yank, I managed to fasten the button, but my victory was short-lived. The too-tight jeans pinched and squeezed, making it hard to breathe. I turned sideways, eyeing my reflection with a critical gaze. My curves,once a source of quiet confidence, now felt like a burden—excess baggage I longed to shed.

I sighed, frustrated tears pricking at the corners of my eyes. When had I let myself go like this? Late nights studying for college exams, an endless parade of ramen noodles and vending machine snacks, the stress of juggling classes with my job at the supermarket—it had all taken a toll. My self-esteem had slowly eroded, chipped away by each pound gained and each sidelong glance from fitter, more confident girls.

Well. No more.

This was the turning point.

It wasn’t easy, of course. If I had more money, I’d sign up to one of those fancy gyms and get an angry personal trainer to shout at me.

But I didn’t.

A supermarket salary and college fees meant that I had barely anything left over to spend.

Maybe I could just run on the spot. I couldn’t run outside, on the streets, because I’d always had a thing about other people seeing me exercise. I always felt like I looked silly, or that they’d somehow know I wasn’t enjoying myself.

I’d find a way. Running on the spot. Cutting down on food portions. So what if money was tight? I'd find a way to get healthy again, to reclaim my sense of self-worth.

Plus, even though I was carrying a few spare pounds, I wasn’t too bad-looking. Wide blue eyes, bright blond hair, pouty lips. Not too bad.

Hopefully.

Nodding at my reflection, I grabbed my coat and headed out the door, ignoring the pinch of too-snug denim against my skin.

It was a bright, sunny day, and I decided—in the spirit of losing weight, that I’d walk to work, instead of jumping on the bus.

Lost in thought, I barely noticed the colorful scrap of paper fluttering from a lamppost until it nearly smacked me in the face. Snatching it from the air, I scanned the bold text splashed across the glossy surface:

"TRANSFORM YOURSELF AT CELESTIAL FITNESS - FIRST MONTH FREE WITH THIS FLYER! NO CREDIT CARD REQUIRED!"

The flyer was eye-catching, the design sleek and minimalist. A stylized silhouette of a muscular figure was backdropped by swirling nebulas and glittering stars. The gym's name was emblazoned in an elegant, almost haunting script.

I'd never heard of Celestial Fitness before. It must be new to the neighborhood. My pulse quickened as I skimmed the details. State-of-the-art equipment, innovative classes, expert trainers. And that free trial . . . it was like a sign from the universe, an answer to my silent prayers.

Biting my lip, I hesitated for only a moment before carefully folding the flyer and tucking it into my bag. A thrill of excitement mingled with trepidation hummed through my veins. Maybe this was the chance I'd been waiting for - an opportunity to embark on the journey of transformation, armed with nothing but my own determination and a mysterious gym with the promise of the stars.

At work, I checked-out.

Literallyandfiguratively.

There were times when I quite enjoyed working in the supermarket. It was kind of nice to not have to think so much, and just be polite to people and do the job like a robot.

Today though, everything went slowly. Probably because of the flyer. I was excited to check out the gym, and see they’d really let me do a whole month for free. The shift crawled by in a blur of beeping scanners and rustling plastic bags.

As soon as I clocked out, I ran home (not literally, you understand) grabbed a change of clothes, and headed to the gym, which was actually only a block from home.

“Convenient,” I murmured, as I looked up at an unassuming storefront, the name "Celestial Fitness" emblazoned on the smoked glass door in that same mesmerizing script from the advertisement. Steeling my nerves with a deep breath, I pushed inside.

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