if you love me, you’ll do this…

LINK: if you love me, you’ll do this…

I used to live with my cousin, Hanna, and her fam when they first immigrated to the U.S. They stayed with at our house until they could get settled, and during that time, the house was definitely more full and chaotic.

Hanna was a little chubby back then, and her parents were constantly putting her on a diet. They monitored everything she ate, sometimes even scolding her for asking for seconds. I didn’t understand it then, but I could feel how much it hurt her.

One night, I remember her sneaking into the kitchen for food. She was caught almost immediately. I don’t know exactly what happened behind closed doors, but I could hear the yelling and crying echoing down the hall. I just remember feeling helpless, sitting in my bed, pretending not to hear.

The irony was that I was free to eat whatever I wanted. I was painfully skinny and yet everyone saw that as healthy. At that time, I hated eating. It felt like a chore. I wanted to be outside, running around, feeling the sun on my face… not stuck at the table being told to eat.

One night, my cousin came to me with a look I’ll never forget—tired, hungry, and a bit mischievous. She whispered to me, “If you love me, you’ll get me some chips.” Of course I loved her. So I crept into the kitchen, grabbed a bag of Doritos and stashed a handful of chips into my pocket. No one questioned me; no one cared if I was eating chips. I brought them back to my room, and she reached into my pocket and devoured them.

That became our little secret… but secrets have a way of coming out. When her parents started weighing her every week, they noticed she wasn’t losing weight and quickly realized I was helping her. From that day on, I wasn’t allowed in the kitchen after 1800 and eating in my room was off-limits.

But my cousin was persistent. She’d still whisper, “If you love me…” and I’d give in and become an enabler, sneaking crackers or cookies when everyone was fast asleep. I was careful not to take too much, just enough that it wouldn’t be missed at first glance. It felt like something I had to do, even though I knew we’d both be in trouble if we got caught again.

Eventually, her family moved out and into an apartment. The house got quieter and it was a bit lonesome for me. The nightly snack runs stopped. When I saw her again months later, I barely recognized her. She’d lost a lot of weight… too much if you asked me.

At first, everyone praised her. They complimented her and she looked a lot happier. But I noticed things others didn’t, or maybe they chose not to. She’d excuse herself after every meal, always heading straight to the bathroom. I didn’t know much back then, but I knew something wasn’t right. I don’t know if shew as purging or using laxatives… maybe both? But it continued for years, even through college.

It wasn’t until she started dating Jeff that things seemed to change. Slowly, she began to look healthier, laugh more, and we could go eat without her going to the bathroom right away.

Sometimes, I still think about those nights. The quietness of the house, the crunching of the chips, and the smile on her face as she enjoyed each bite.