The lingering smell of grease and fries filled the car as Layla leaned back in the passenger seat, a satisfied grin on her face. Meanwhile, I kept my hands steady on the wheel, navigating the familiar streets toward the studio.
How could someone eat like that and not gain a pound? My gaze flicked toward her briefly, noting the way she casually tapped her fingers on her thigh, humming softly to herself. It had to be a superpower.
When I was younger, I didn't have that kind of luck. Eating even a little too much would show immediately, and I'd get those sharp, disapproving looks from my parents.
I learned quickly that control was the key to everything what I ate, how I trained, how I carried myself. It was part of the reason I had the body I did now, though I'd traded those judgmental stares for magazine covers and compliments from strangers.
Still, the habits stuck. Strict diets, relentless workouts. Perfection at any cost.
