You go upstairs and look at yourself in the mirror; your waist has turned inward and your stomach has flattened— age has done what no amount of starvation ever could.

She fusses over you like you’re a fragile doll— pushes food your way constantly and watches you eat with nervousness instead of resentment.

You know she’s scared for you, but for the first time in a long time, it feels like she’s calling you beautiful.