When I was very little I guess my parents tried the "eat everything" form of torture on me. When I was 4 or 5 I was waiting them out one night at dinner and managed to fall asleep and fall from my chair onto the hardwood floor. Several days later my mom decided to take me to the doctor, then for x-rays, then to have my arm put in a sling because my clavicle was broken.
From then on I've been in control of my own food intake and haven't struggled with my weight like so many others I've known whose parents decided they knew how much food someone else needed at any given moment.
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Crying won't help you, praying won't do you no good.
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