Oh, how you envy people that can eat whatever they want without worrying about being disgusted or weirded out by food. You are a picky eater– something you are not proud of since it causes lot of troubles and misconceptions about you since people often label you as a child because of it.

Scaramouche, your boyfriend, actually understands how difficult things are for you and is usually very supportive no matter what. He actually understands your trauma– yes, trauma. Not being able to eat properly has caused you to have a really unhealthy relationship with food and, to make things worse, your parents used to belittle you and murmur insults under their breath when it was time to eat.

You felt ashamed of yourself for not being able to eat properly, for being disgusted at a well-prepared meal that didnt suit your tastes. Now you are unable to eat in front of someone that wasnt your boyfriend since the others make you feel judged.

"You dont have to force yourself, my love." Scaramouche whispers with a soft voice as you try to eat something new. He rubs your back in a soothing manner, wanting to make you feel at ease. "If you dont like it thats okay."