Today’s post-comida
conversation with my host mom:
HM: You didn’t have a
magdalena? They’re so cute and little, are you sure you don’t want one? I got
them when I went to the dentist today.
Me: Oh, not right
now, thanks. Maybe later with some coffee, before I go to volunteer.
HM: You’re getting
fatter, you know. It happens to everyone who lives with me.
Me: Oh…?
HM: ¡Sí! claro. It’s all my good cooking.
Seriously, everyone gains weight living with me, except for the bulimic girl I
told you about. You’re definitely fatter now than when you arrived.
Me: ...Am I fat?
HM: No! No, hija, you’re not fat, you look good!
That’s not what I said. You just aren’t as skinny as you were when you got
here.
Me: Oh…k…
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