Vanishing Act
So, for about a week now, my host family's friend has been commenting something about my appearance, but the only word I understood was the word "thin." I thought that she was commenting on the fact that I try to eat not to abundance here, which is a battle I don't always win.
Cultures in which food and hospitality are intertwined are really only fantastic in theory if you have a stomach like mine.
I had to have several conversations with my first host mother, Sveta, that yes, I like her cooking, but get sick easily, and yes, this happenings in America too, all the time. Her husband, Sasha, only understood this as a diet, and truthfully, I didn't care to explain to him as long as he got the general idea that I did not want to eat a lot. So I just assumed that this was the same case here, and that the host family friend thinks that I want to get thin. Whatever.
Then my new host mother started commenting on it and finally, yesterday, my host father and I had an extended conversation about it as he made me eat a breakfast of potatoes and chicken in a sort of stew. I've told them fifty times I never breakfast (sorry, but in Russian, breakfast is a verb). Not in the States, not since I was little. Never. My stomach is incapable of processing foold early in the morning. Thankfully, I had been up reading for a few hours and it was after 11am, so I figured fine, I'll eat. And again, I explain, "listen, don't give me a lot, I'll get sick." His response? Hey, you're at home, there is the toilet! Awesome. Just what I wanted to hear. Such sympathy.
So I do eat. And I proceed to get a stomach ache and he then tells me about all these thin comments using hand gestures.
Apparently, when I visited them in November, I was fat.
Then I come to them in late December and they think that I've lost a lot of weight. So now they take it as their personal mission to feed me till my pants fit again. I tell him, "well, my mom is sending me clothes that should fit," but unfortunately I only know the words for "my mother," "me," and "clothes," so the rest is gestures. Needless to say, they better get here quick before they will no longer fit!
Cultures in which food and hospitality are intertwined are really only fantastic in theory if you have a stomach like mine.
I had to have several conversations with my first host mother, Sveta, that yes, I like her cooking, but get sick easily, and yes, this happenings in America too, all the time. Her husband, Sasha, only understood this as a diet, and truthfully, I didn't care to explain to him as long as he got the general idea that I did not want to eat a lot. So I just assumed that this was the same case here, and that the host family friend thinks that I want to get thin. Whatever.
Then my new host mother started commenting on it and finally, yesterday, my host father and I had an extended conversation about it as he made me eat a breakfast of potatoes and chicken in a sort of stew. I've told them fifty times I never breakfast (sorry, but in Russian, breakfast is a verb). Not in the States, not since I was little. Never. My stomach is incapable of processing foold early in the morning. Thankfully, I had been up reading for a few hours and it was after 11am, so I figured fine, I'll eat. And again, I explain, "listen, don't give me a lot, I'll get sick." His response? Hey, you're at home, there is the toilet! Awesome. Just what I wanted to hear. Such sympathy.
So I do eat. And I proceed to get a stomach ache and he then tells me about all these thin comments using hand gestures.
Apparently, when I visited them in November, I was fat.
Then I come to them in late December and they think that I've lost a lot of weight. So now they take it as their personal mission to feed me till my pants fit again. I tell him, "well, my mom is sending me clothes that should fit," but unfortunately I only know the words for "my mother," "me," and "clothes," so the rest is gestures. Needless to say, they better get here quick before they will no longer fit!
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