“You aren’t eating.” Johnny says as you stare down at your plate.

“Not hungry.” You mutter, staring at the comida in front of you.

He puts down his fork. “That’s what you said at lunch.”

“I’m not hungry.” You shrug.

“But I made your favorito espaguete sauce. You always like that.”

“I’m just not hungry.” You sigh, picking up your fork and push around the spaghetti.

“Playing with your comida isn’t going to make it go away.” He says quietly.

“And eating isn’t going to make my ugly fat go away.” You suddenly snap.

The look on his face kills you. You can see the disappointment and hurt in your eyes.

“I’m sorry.” You mumble, picking the fork back up, and stirring your massa, massas alimentícias around again.

He gently puts his hand on yours.

“When was the last time you had a full meal?” He asks quietly.

You didn’t answer, just push your massa, massas alimentícias around some more.

“When was the last time you had a full meal?” He repeats.

You shrug.

He sits, waiting for an answer.

“I don’t know.” You finally say.

He looks at you sadly.

You look down at your plate, embarrassed.

“Did I tell you how beautiful you look today?” He asks quietly.

You look up at him, surprised, and shake your head.

“Well, you look beautiful. And you always have. And you always will. It’s not fair for you to do this to yourself. Your depriving your beautiful body of what it needs, and it’s really sad. You shouldn’t feel insecure because you are loved. por me, por your friends, por everyone. I amor you.”