Yutooskinny story

"Bianca!" Nonna calls, seeing me for the first time in two weeks, she runs up to me as fast as her little legs will carry her, she looks me up and down and frowns, "yutooskinny!" She shouts, "what'happen to all that food yu eat before?" she taps my flat stomach almost hard enough to make me throw up, if I could. I've been starving myself for weeks for this; mum let me stay home the last two Sundays because my tights were getting far too... tight for my liking.
You see, the thing is, I'm Italian, both sides, grandparents on mum's side went back to Campania after mum and dad got married. Dad's side stayed, they say they like Australia, Grandad does anyway, so much I can't call him Nonno anymore, Nonna on the other hand doesn't really, she wants to go home but I don't think she remembers what home is anymore.
Either way she does her Italian genes proud, every Sunday when we come to visit she cooks enough food to feed an army, or all of Africa.  And since it's only me, my sister, mum, dad and Grandad (who she won't let eat anything anyway), you can see where this is going. She mainly focuses on me the most because I'm the thinnest in my family, well dads pretty slim too but like grandad she rarely lets him eat anything. So that leaves my sister and I and mum.
My parents once made the mistake of leaving my sister with Nonna while mum was having me. Dad was at the hospital too much so he couldn't take her to high school.
By the time it was all over my sister had gone up two dress sizes. Nonna just doesn't believe you are full until you can't stand up to escape.

After Nonna probes my flat stomach for a sign of fat a few more times she turns to the next member of my family.
"Rosa! Lookatchu!" Nonna embraces my older sister. I've been told I look like Rosa a few times, a slim Rosa anyway, Rosa never lost her appetite for Nonnas cooking, "I hear we have wedding coming up soon!" Nonna calls, pulling back from Rosa.
"You heard right Nonna," Rosa smiles, "I'm getting married to Vincent in Spring!"
"Oh wonderful! Just wonderful!" Nonna goes on to greet my mother and father in her own special way.
I look at my sister, her long black hair is tied in a ponytail behind her back, showing off her more than generous breasts and the soft gut beneath. But that wasn't the area that had benefited the most from Nonna's cooking. I sometimes called her Kardashian because of her far larger than usual rump.
She found it funny and I bet she liked the fact that she looked like a slightly overweight version of Kim.
I mouthed the word "Fat" to her, she almost laughed and poked me in the chest, "twig" she mumbled.
"What are these then?" I asked looking down at my own chest. I've been asked at least a dozen times if they were real.
"Don't make me laugh," Rosa jeers before stepping into the house. I stayed behind, unable to squeeze in behind her large backside.
After we greeted grandad with the customary hug Nonna rushes us into the large dining room. Traditional Italian music plays from their surround sound system dad gave them for Christmas.
Nonna pushes me into a seat and motions for me to wait. Like usual, she's already cooked the food. I groan after she leaves.
Grandad winks at me. Usually if Nonna leaves for a moment I pass some of my stuff across the table for him. It helps me out more than you could believe.

Nonna brings out the first course, traditional pizza. The smell of cheese and seasoning fills the air.
We dig in as soon as Nonna is seated, first course is always easy, no prompting required.
First course faded into second course. Which promptly disappeared into third course, albeit with some shoving required for me.
The clock said it was already four and we were still sitting there, eating lunch.
Eventually I start to slow down, despite not eating dinner the previous night and only grabbing some grapes for dinner.
My stomach feels swollen and I can't let myself look down, if I do, that's it, game over, I won't be able to stomach anything else.
I probably look pregnant, like my sister. Although her bump isn't that bad considering it had to cover some ground to start with.
I groan as I down another fork of pasta into my mouth. I chew it slowly, pretending its gum, gum is nice, it doesn't go down into your stomach when its swollen. Gum doesn't hurt.
Pasta does, I feel it slide down to join the rest. My stomach groans with the effort. Which Nonna interprets as "I'm starving please feed me another cow", another helping of pasta materialises on my plate and Nonna disappears to feed my mother who is trying to work her way out of it.
Dad reaches for some more and Nonna snaps, she yells at him and tells him how "naughti yu are". In the confusion I slip half my plate to Grandad who hasn't eaten anything since second course, a very small second course too.
Although, with half a mountain gone I still have the other half in front of me, daring me.
I don't know if I can do it, but as soon as I doubt myself Nonna, as if reading my mind breaks from her argument with dad and exclaims "Eat, eat Bianca, yutooskinny! Put meat on like Rosa, then we find man for you!"
I groan and point my tongue out at Rosa. Who promptly asks for seconds. The fat cow.
I finally decide to Nut up or shut up. Like in the movie. With my trusty fork in one hand and a spoon in the other I get to work. Shoving parts of the mountain into my mouth as fast as I can, before my stomach can protest again.
The food flows and I have to break up the constant force feeding to drink some water occasionly. Which I hate because water takes up more room that I don't actually have.
Eventually the last piece is in my mouth. I sigh in victory and lean back in my chair. Mum does the same. We give each other a quiet high five under the table for surviving yet another Sunday. Nonna only makes three courses, unless it's a wedding. This is great because Rosa is getting married in a few months, like I was handling this as it is.

Two hours later I waddle into my room like a pregnant woman, then I straighten myself up and wander over to my mirror to survey the damage.
"Waddling is right," I mumble prodding what had been a flat stomach mere hours ago, "must be past my second trimester by now, or I've got triplets in there," I groan.
I'm not far off either, my favourite blue shirt has ridden up almost all the way to my belly button and I gave up on my jeans ages ago, I didn't even bother with a belt and now my tanned stomach is displayed in all its glory!
If a big mound of Italian food can be glorious.
I throw my arms up in the air and fall back onto my queen sized bed. Although flop would be the better term.
"I'm going to be obese," I mumble to nobody in particular.
"It's worth it," I hear a voice call from the other side of the room. I lift my head and over the mound of my gut I spy Rosa, leaning against the door with her hands on her own mound, which I notice is sizably larger than my own. "Double chin sis, it's taking effect," she jokes.
"Shut it Rosa," I groan.
"Mum wants to know if you want dinner," she laughs.
I throw my head back down and groan, "no, I'm going to explode, why don't you take your nine month out of here and eat something else why don't you? Children starve in Africa fatso."
"Well at least the world won't lose my pretty face to that,"
"Fat arse,"
"Bloated twig," she saunters off.
"Nice one" I mumble just as I drift off to sleep.