Food has always been a love language in my culture.
Like the kind words of your mami saying “¿Papi quieres comer?”
Like the paleta she gives you so that you forgive her for yelling at you in the middle of the supermarket.
Or needing to finish every last crumb of your plate because your mami couldn’t afford to throw out $12 of well made food.
Or still being forced to eat the foods you absolutely hate but your mami’s friend bought it for you so you MUST be nice and eat it for the sake of not disappointing
Or finally reaching that point of you life where your soul becomes a void hoping the love of that food would heal you.
Wondering night after night if that large pizza, guava juice, cheesy pasta, and cupcakes were loving enough to keep you up till 3 in the morning.
Groaning and moaning, your stomach is filled to your throat burning with love.
Toxic, over consumed love
Telling yourself, you won’t do it again, starting a never ending cycle.