No matter. I was going home at a decent hour -- early enough where, possibly, I would be able to eat with my parents. But that didn't happen. My folks, both of whom are in their seventies, continue to eat dinner at around ... fuck if I know, but let's say 3 in the afternoon. Because when I got home around 5:15, they did what they usually do when they eat first: They have a place setting of some food in dishes and have a plugged-in rice cooker with rice and some protein they cooked up (steak, pork, or chicken, like it was last night) in it. That's totally great. I don't want to take for granted that they have provided food for me all my life, and continue to do so to this day; I am never for want, plus it saves me money.
Unfortunately, I am permanently beholden to the idea that whatever they leave for me I have to eat. All of it. I can certainly blame them for that mindset; I was a difficult child when it came to eating because I was never hungry. I was beaten down (always mentally, sometimes physically), and then I gave up and decided the best way to get their love and approval was to eat whatever they presented in front of me. That mentality set in at some point when I was a kid, and it has never, ever let me go, even to this day.
That's why I was hoping, probably beyond hope, that they would wait for me. When we eat together -- well, I like the fact that we eat together, don't get me wrong, but I also feel as though I get to dictate how much I eat. Instead, when they leave food for me, I don't ever feel like I can just not eat what they left for me. I eat it all. And mostly it's a hell of a lot -- especially rice; most days when I eat on my own but especially last night, I wasn't hungry, and I probably ate way more than 2,000 of them.
The only upside I feel to eating by myself is not feeling pressured to finish. If I have to eat it all and then do the dishes, I'll do that all on my time. But either it was because I was hoping my parents would eat with me or because my stomach was full from everything I ate at the State Fair on Monday, I really, really was not looking forward to eating this all. I wasn't that hungry. But Christ, I ate it all anyway, because otherwise Mother will get mad at me, even if I know nowadays that she won't. And I did eat it all. Took me almost two hours, but I did!
In the middle of my consuming slog, Mother came up to me at the dining table. She told me I didn't have to eat it all, and she said that if I told them around, oh, 3 o'clock that I would be coming home at 5, then they'd wait for me. But I have been coming home late so often that they can't wait to eat, so they eat first and they guess what they will leave for me. Usually it's more than I need. I'm not mad, but ... it's too much. It almost always is.
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I have been feeling fat all night. I have been fat -- shit, for a long, long time now. I have averaged over 170 pounds the past few times I have been screened, and I know it's because of the combination of the food Father forces me to take to work with me and the food Mother leaves for me when I come home. All those unnecessary calories add up to my distended belly. And that's why (let me vent here) I'm glad they're leaving soon. I love their food, I love that they make food for me, and it allows me to save money. But I am feeling too damn bloated every single day and night, and it's finally gotten to be too much. I probably will eat too much (and eat out too much) once they leave. I know it. But as I am feeling right now, I would prefer that. Because this is too much. Way too much.
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