Chapter 1

My daughter's medical report showed a bunch of abnormal readings: high blood sugar, high blood pressure, high cholesterol.

On the way back from the hospital, my daughter crumpled the report into a paper plane and threw it out the window, but I caught it.

She rolled her eyes and leaned back, scrolling through her phone.

"I was born weighing 7 pounds. It's your fault for making me fat when I was in your womb."

She took one earbud out and lazily said to the rearview mirror, "Being fat or thin is genetic. It's not something I can control."

I had heard this line hundreds of times in the past eight years.

Whenever I asked her to eat less or exercise more, she would use that line to silence me.

My mother-in-law, sitting in the passenger seat, turned around and patted her hand. "Exactly! My granddaughter has been chubby since birth. It's her mother's fault for feeding her too much in the womb, so she can't help it. Lara, don't listen to your mother."

My grip on the steering wheel tightened, but I said nothing.

A few days later, my daughter returned to the hospital for a recheck due to her high readings. The doctor sternly suggested she lose weight.

"Your blood sugar level and cholesterol level are too high. How can a 20-year-old be pre-diabetic?"

My daughter sighed and complained, "I was born weighing 7 pounds. My mom made me fat in the womb. Being fat or thin is genetic. It's not something I can control. Even if naturally fat people lose weight, they'll just end up binge eating, so it's not worth it," she repeated.

My mother-in-law patted her on the back sympathetically and said, "Yes, that's right! My granddaughter was born chubby. It's not her fault."

The doctor was stunned at first, then patiently explained to my daughter, "First of all, your birth weight of 7 pounds is a very healthy weight for a newborn. Babies under 5 pounds are considered underweight, and babies under 8 pounds are considered healthy."

"Moreover, both genetics and upbringing have a combined effect on a person's weight. Through a reasonable diet and exercise, you can still achieve a healthy weight."

My daughter just chuckled.

"What's the point of just being healthy? I think being pretty is more important. Besides, my mom could've just held back a bit during pregnancy, so I could've been born super thin, but she couldn't control her own mouth and made me born chubby."

My mother-in-law chimed in, "Yeah, when Lara was little, she ate such bland, watery food, it was heartbreaking to watch. Even adults can't stand the hardship of holding back their appetite, yet my daughter-in-law made a child eat like that. How could she do that to her own child? She's worse than a stepmother."

I pursed my lips, feeling a mix of emotions.

Upon returning home, my mother-in-law urged me to cook.

For years, I maintained a healthy diet at home to help my daughter lose weight. I insisted on cooking for the family regardless of how tired I was from work.

But today, I calmly said, "Mom, why don't you cook today. I'm exhausted."

She grumbled but went to the kitchen.

I returned to my room, feeling despondent.

Suddenly, my phone automatically accepted a Facetime call.

On the screen was my daughter from ten years in the future, looking disheveled and occupying the entire screen like a mountain.

When she spoke, her words were slurred and unclear; I could barely understand her.

"Mom, please don't give up on me. Save me. I weigh 500 pounds now. I can't even leave the house. It's like being in prison."

Outside, my mother-in-law yelled excitedly. "Lara, dinner's ready! Grandma made a feast for you!"