The Picky Eater's Recovery Book Novels & Stories

She ate more fruits than her meals, so I had to employ a trick Estella taught me to make her eat her favourite meals. She improved until last week, when she resumed her food strike. How can a four-year-old be a picky eater? I didn’t understand. Estella advised that I shouldn’t force her to eat, but today I was so frustrated that I threatened to take all her toys if she didn’t eat her mashed potatoes and vegetable salads. She cried, played with food, and finally ate it slowly when she noticed I wasn’t playing. We began another battle with her lunch box because she kept playing with the sandwiches Estella had prepared specially for the twins.

Instead, he smiled and watched as his son blushed at the affection. "I do like him! But if you leave him with me, I can't guarantee that I'll take good care of him." Rebecca hesitated. Albert reassured her, "He's easy to take care of. He goes to school every day and spends the rest of his time reading books on his own. He has no other problems aside from being a picky eater." "He's a picky eater?" Rebecca remembered how Oliver had been eyeing the shrimp earlier today and found it surprising, considering he looked chubby and healthy. Yet he was a picky eater?

they squealed excitedly as I took a seat on the table. After their excitement cooled down, I decided to address the issue of picky eating. "Aiden, you don't seem to like the meal," I asked as I served my food. "I don't like this," he answered honestly, pointing to the chicken he had heaped to the side of his plate. Emma had gone back to the kitchen to resume her chores. "And I don't like these things," Abby lifted a fork of salad in disgust. "Abby, Aiden, remember the first day I came over, and you both helped aunt Mia make a super delicious meal for me?"

The seasoning was especially strong, so he would be thirsty if he were to eat too much of it. On the other hand, after he had inherited the Ultimate Book of Medicine, he learned dietary therapy as well. He could process all kinds of natural pollution-free plants into quality delicacies. They even had the effect of diet therapy. To put it bluntly, he had become picky with food and could not eat the food cooked by others. “I don’t have any food abstentions. It’d be fine as long as it’s not too sweet!” Phoebe said as she looked at his back.

I seriously cannot remember the last time I ate. Becky stands up straight, and with all the pride she can muster, she lifts the cover off. "It's a simple dish since you are in recovery. Chicken and rice with a mirepoix blend, to drink I have personally brewed ginger and chamomile tea to aid in digestion." She looks over, looking for my approval of her simple rice porridge and tea. I can tell she didn't want me to eat just any old porridge and put thought into it, even the tea.

I was absolved of all blame. The restaurant still fired me, though. Just as I decided to let go of the past and start afresh, I realized I couldn't get a job. I would pass the interview before being given various excuses for not being hired. Christopher was behind this. A wave of helplessness washed over me. All I wanted was to get a proper job and live my life. Why was it so hard? Fortunately, I persevered and managed to get a job as a janitor at an upscale bar. I worked hard daily and bought everything I wanted to eat. It had been a long time since I'd treated myself to these things—I'd scrimped and saved for Christopher's sake.

Night teased. Star nodded in agreement and turned to Aiden with a serious expression. “Daddy, picky eating is a bad habit. You shouldn’t do it! Our teacher says that we need to eat well to be healthy.” Her earnest lecture brought a smile to Amy’s face. She held back her laughter and explained, “Picky eating only affects children’s health.” Star blinked in confusion. “Is that true?” “Yes!” Amy confirmed. “So, you two better eat up quickly. If you don’t eat and keep chatting, you might not grow taller.”

I had picked up all the essentials plus all the junk food that Damian wanted. As we were walking through the store, I saw the book section and saw some receipt books. I picked up two books, thinking that maybe it would help me plan out some meals. I knew how to cook, just never had to. I have never had to plan out an entire meal, so if I could use a receipt book maybe that would help. We paid for our groceries, went out to the truck, and loaded them up then made our way back to the ranch. “So, could I ask you something?” I whispered.

The diet consisted of nothing but steamed vegetables, zero-calorie options, intermittent fasting, and weight loss methods I'd never heard of. "Dr. Bates, is all this really necessary?" He looked at me like I was clueless. He set down the notebook and left. I thought he might be preparing an easier plan out of pity, but the next day, he returned with a dress. "This is the engagement dress for your sister and your ex-fiancé. It's your choice whether to follow the plan or not." My heart sank. It was a cruel reminder and a slap in the face. "I'll do it. I must bring these people to justice."

I do too. August 19th: Found a book on eating disorders at the library today. There’s a chapter about stress-induced anorexia. It sounds so much like him. The book suggests small, frequent meals, high-protein soups, and creating a calm environment during mealtimes. I’ll try it tomorrow. I have to help him. I just wish he’d let me. My breath catches. My grip tightens on the diary, my knuckles turning white.