“Always leave food on your plate,” Nana said. “Why?” “To show that the food doesn’t have power over you. That you’re in charge, not your appetite.” I’d never thought of my appetite as something separate from me, something that needed to be tamed. “How do I be in charge?” I asked. Nana led me through a push-away and smiled the way she did everything else: thinly. Her lips pressed into an almost invisible line. “Get used to being hungry,” she said. “It won’t kill you, I promise.” She smoothed her pants against her narrow hips. “If you feel hungry, that means you’re winning.”
