Something has been bothering me since last week, so much that I had to come here and write about it. But first a background to this feeling is necessary.
Growing up in my hometown in Brazil, Saturdays meant that my sister and I would run errands with my mom every morning. On our way downtown, on foot, we would stop at a pharmacy to weigh ourselves. This routine started when I was young, maybe 9 or 10 years old, and continued into my teenage years. I was always — have always been — the heaviest of the three of us. I remember that if my mom weighed 100g more than the previous Saturday, she would skip meals during the week or go for really long walks to burn extra calories.
I have always loved food. I don’t remember ever skipping a meal for any reason whatsoever. After our errands in…
the world as I see it 