Calorie Counting for Mom's Love
My mom is a retired supermodel. She's added a monitor to the weight scales at home so that she can monitor my and my sister, Abigail Teller's perfect body weight.
If my data goes up by 0.1%, Mom will ban me from eating for the next three days. But the thing is, Abigail keeps eating fried chicken every day, yet her monitor's light is always green.
Mom claims that Abigail's still going through puberty. I defend myself, saying that I've gained weight because of the bloating caused by my period.
As Mom points at the red light emitted by my monitor, she exclaims, "The data is never wrong! If you've gained weight, that means you've been snacking far too much!"
After getting punished many times, I begin believing that being fat is a sin.
On the night of my 20th birthday, the long-term diet I've been placed on has triggered my kidney failure, which causes me to bloat up everywhere.
I kneel on the floor and plead to Mom that I'm seriously ill. But that's when the monitor lets out a shrill alarm.
When Mom sees the 5% increase in my body fat data, she puts me through a devillish punishment. I can feel the electric currents jolting through my body.
"It's bad enough that you've secretly snacked on cake, but to even lie in my face about your illness? I'd like to see how long you can stay stubborn for!"
Having said her piece, Mom locks the door and takes Abigail out to celebrate her birthday.
I guess Mom is correct. Monitors never lie.
I'm the one who's at the wrong for being a glutton. That's why I've transformed into a monster who doesn't deserve any love at all.
I'm sorry, Mom. I'll only drink water in my next life.