Our relationship with food.
-Put the empanada away, Fredo, and go for a walk.
-But what are you doing, Dude? Don't you see that I'm eating?
-Yes, but out of habit, not fame.
-How are you, ho?
-Actually, you don't feel like it.
-What do you mean no? I had a hunger attack…
-Emotional, Fredo. Emotional fame. Not ye fame, ye anxiety.
-What what, ho?
-You have to improve your relationship…
-But I don't have a girl anymore!
-…Food tail, Fredín. The relationship between food tail.
-What is it, that as soon as I'm single I can't even eat?
-Yeah. But without fame it is not convenient for you.
-You are a sheep, Joseluis.
-Whenever you're dead you open the fridge to see what to eat.
-And what about you?
-Then you feel guilty. And who has to put up with you?
-What a silly thing, kid.
-Learn to listen to your body, Fredo. What does it tell you?
-Who, ho?
-Your inner voice. What does it tell you, man?
-I'm hungrier than a cow on a field of synthetic grass.
-In what tone?
-How are you, ho?
-You have to identify the tone of voice that comes into your head when you think about food or are eating.
-What do you want, Joseluis, touch my pussies?
-No, no. Think about it, take some distance, analyze…
-Mecaaa…! I'm going to end up hitting you, Josín…!
-You see? Violence… The damn anxiety.
-What are you craving? All I want is for you to let me eat in peace.
-Are you sure you're hungry?
-Phew! It's heavier than cement slippers.
-You have to learn to know yourself, Fredo, to be aware.
-What I have is hunger, kid.
-Don't fool yourself, you're eating for the sake of eating.
-What do you want, take them?
-What I want is for you to achieve a healthier and more conscious relationship with food.
-What is it, do you want the empanada?
-What are you talking about?
-Of chorizo.
-Nah. Don't give me any more.
-You're always the same, sticking your guinea pig into all the Tupperware containers my mom sends me. And then, you idiot, you start eating my brains out.
-You're not hungry, Fredo, you're eating based on emotions.
-Come on, go to the living room, sheep, and stop touching my asses…
