LINK: family affair parte uno
Currently listening to: Karma – Taylor Swift feat. Ice Spice
You’re talking shit for the hell of itAddicted to betrayal, but you’re relevantYou’re terrified to look down‘Cause if you dare, you’ll see the glareOf everyone you burned just to get thereIt’s coming back around
And so it has begun…
The evening began at a quaint local Mexican restaurant, its bustling atmosphere alive with with people laughing and the tantalizing aroma of spices wafting through the air. My excitement, however, quickly changed after meeting him. Sitting alone, I anxiously awaited Noah’s arrival, my thoughts spiraling as I tried to imagine the perfect way to make a good impression. This meeting wasn’t exactly my idea—my great aunt had orchestrated it at my mother’s insistence. *groan*
When Noah finally arrived, the initial relief I felt seeing him walk in evaporated almost instantly. His standoffish demeanor, with a scowl on his face, caught me off guard. Despite my best efforts to create a friendly and welcoming atmosphere, his mood was palpable. I reminded myself of my mother’s instructions to be on my best behavior and remained polite, even as our conversation began to feel like a series of unpleasantries.
We ordered tacos, but the silence at our table was incredibly uncomfortable that I could barely bring myself to eat. Every attempt I made to spark a conversation fizzled with his glare and lukewarm responses. From what little I could gather, he worked in IT, was four years older than me, and, yes, was also Korean. But beneath the surface, I could already tell that he was disappointed. He didn’t have to say it aloud—I already knew.
A few hours after I returned home, the fallout began. My great aunt called my mother, and I overheard their brief conversation. Noah had complained—vehemently—that I was “too large” for him and that dining with me had ruined his appetite.
My mother apologized profusely, as she assured my great aunt that I would be “at an appropriate weight” for future outings. Shame washed over me, even though I hadn’t asked for any of this. At the time, I wore a size 8 in clothing and pushing 144 pounds, not the ideal size for Korean woman in Los Angeles, but far from being grotesque. Still, my mother’s words made me wish I could disappear.
I felt embarrassed for myself, for my mother, and for letting my great aunt down. But most of all… I felt sadness because no one seemed to care what I wanted.
This would be the beginning of my nightmare…
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