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You’re a reflection of me — and I don’t say that with pride right now. I look at you, and all I see is what I tried to avoid becoming. The heaviness, the softness, the way you take up more space now like you don’t even notice, or worse, don’t care. Maybe I fed you too much comfort when you needed discipline. Or maybe I criticized too much and drove you straight into rebellion. Either way, I failed. You’ve let yourself go, and with every pound, I feel it hanging off me, too. You used to be so sharp. So contained. Now it’s like you’ve disappeared under your own skin. You laugh it off, joke about it, pretend it doesn’t matter — but I see how you shift in your seat, how your clothes dig in, how people look. You think I’m cruel. Maybe I am. But I remember what it’s like to be dismissed the moment you enter a room. To be the “before” picture in everyone’s mind. I clawed my way out of that. And now you’ve walked right back in. Clip features: step mommy, roleplay, weight humiliation