Stay ✔︎

Chapter 22

a/n: i'm so close to finish writing this story, and so naturally i've been putting it off 🤺🤺

tw: eating disorder

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CHAPTER 22
EXPECTING THE ABSOLUTE WORST

"YOU KNOW I READ this article the other day," Maria stated, swallowing her food, "It was good—very informative and useful. I'll send it to you later,"

Both the mother and daughter were sat across each other at the dining table. The kitchen and the dining room kind of blended together, so there was no telling where the kitchen ended and the dining room started. And the living room was only separated by one wall.

Her mother's new house was rather small compared to their previous house, but Luisa figured it was more than enough since her mother lived alone.

She nodded, nibbling on her drier than dry toast—the bread was already dry to start with. As spread her mother had fished out this suspicious-looking green thing from the fridge, and Luisa didn't even dare sniff it. Maria had cut up some apples and oranges as well, and so Luisa tried to compensate her hunger by eating the fruits.

"Yeah. What's it about?"

"A new diet plan," and Luisa instantly knew she had asked the wrong question. Her mother continued, "It's not that hard to follow, helps greatly in weight loss. I feel you could benefit from it,"

Luisa took in a sharp breath, feeling a very familiar aching jab at the base of her throat—she had been expecting that, but it still took her aback. She dropped her half-eaten toast onto her plate, and gave her a small nod, a constricting feeling starting to grow in her chest and spreading, "Sure. Thanks," she forced herself to say.

She wasn't so hungry anymore.

"You have to look after what you eat, Luisa," her mother continued, very much oblivious of how much discomfort she was inflicting on her daughter, "I mean you're living alone now—I can't keep track of your diet anymore. You're not in high school anymore,"

And thank God for that, Luisa thought to herself, keeping her gaze focused on her hand on her lap, picking at the cuticles of her fingers.

"And you have to look after your weight. It's not so easy–,"

"I'm sorry," Luisa interrupted her, pushing her chair back abruptly, standing up—she just really needed to not be there anymore, "It's getting late. I've got to go get ready for Polly's baby shower," she was already walking away before she had even completed her sentence.

She had to get away.

***

Luisa knew for a fact that she wasn't fat, not that she thought there was anything wrong with being fat. All that really mattered was if you felt comfortable in your own skin or not.

Luisa had never felt that.

Not really. The times she did feel okay with herself, they were always fleeting, moments that would always come to pass, and she would be back to feeling not quite alright with herself—her flabby arms, breasts larger than her liking, her belly, round face, thick thighs, she could basically go on and on.

She didn't want to throw all the blame on her mother, but her mother was definitely the starting point of creating this ugly insecurity in her. She had had a hard time coming to terms with the fact, and she still found it difficult to accept it.