Info - curvy reader, insecure reader, reader with ED brain, Timothée loving curves, mention of therapy, a bit of a toxic mindset, comparing self to others, refusing food
I bit my lip as I looked around. What were the odds there wasn't a single woman here who wasn't stick thin. Seriously, usually there was at least one or two, but everybody here was so thin. They were all eating too. How could they do this? How could they eat and look so nonchalant.
"No, no, y/n, you don't know what's happening in their brain," I remembered what my therapist said. I didn't have an eating disorder anymore, but I still had an ED mind. According to many people that never left unfortunately.
I had this horrible habit. I'd see what amount of people were in the room and I'd split them by weight. If I wasn't in the lower weight bracket I felt disgusted with myself. It was so toxic because people were so much more than their weight. Not to mention I wouldn't judge anyone else on this alone. I felt horrible about myself and about my thinking patterns.
"Hey honey," Timothée said with a smile. "Want a cupcake, they're your favorite, mint!"
"No, I'm not hungry," I said softly, and rubbed my arms.
"Why? They're small, like a bite," he offered.
"Probably like two hundred calories I don't need," I whispered. Timothée slowly caught on.
"Mon Amour," he said gently.
"What?"
"What's on your mind? Please tell me?" He begged.
"Every girl here is stick thin," I mumbled. I expected lots of reminders about therapy and positive thinking that I just really didn't want to hear at the moment.
"They all must be so jealous of your Goddess curves," he whispered in my ear.
"What!" I said in shock.
"Be easy on them y/n," he said.
"I'm trying," I said sternly. He must've known I misunderstood.
"It's not their fault they're not as blessed as you," he said kissing my neck.
"Oh," I shuddered. "I thought you meant be easy on my curves."
"You've got the kind of body that tempted Gods and men to wage war," he said seriously.
"Timothée," I giggled. "You're making me blush. I'm no Helen of Troy."
"Oh she's got nothing on you," he purred and my eyes widened in surprise. "Marble was made to be molded into your figure. Poets put pen to paper because of it."
"Timothée," I beamed. "People are going to wonder why I'm smiling ear to ear."
He wrapped his arms around me, and rocked us slowly back and forth.
"But thank you baby. That means the world," I said and leaned back into him.
"Just telling the truth," he said simply. "It's not difficult to compliment you."
