Wednesday, May 29, 2013

Vegetable of the Day

Customer (Guest) (Patron): What's the vegetable of the day?

Server: Broccoli.

Customer (Guest) (Patron): Uhhhhhmmmm...

Jesus Chriiiiiiist.

I can't do this anymore.  I - I can't even pretend to do this anymore.  I'm pretty positive my eyes just loudly sighed in annoyance as they rolled back into my head. 

You're going to get the sweet potato fries.  I can tell you don't want to.  I can tell that you're worried it's bikini season, whatever the fuck that truly is, but I know one thing, and it is that you are most definitely not going to get the broccoli, even though:

1. I saw you logging your earlier calories on the MyFitnessPal app before I even got to the table.

2. You are drinking a vodka water.  Single.  Tall.

3. You are sitting at the very front of your chair, so as to not flatten out the fat that every normal woman and person in history has on their legs.

4. In the 15 minutes that you've been sitting at my table, you've pulled the top of your jeans up higher on your waistline, and tugged at your shirt to loosen it around your belly.

5. The only conversation I've heard you have is about yoga, pilates, and going for a run on the lake path.

Those are 5 good reasons that should make saying, "I don't care what the fuck the vegetable is, I'm going to regret anything else I get later, so I may as well get that.  You know what...never mind.  Fuck it.  I'm not going to eat at all, because all this work that I put into body is causing so much stress that I'd rather sit idle and starve than have to become more active to offset the calories" rather easy.

But it's never that easy.

You will ho and hum and I will stand here with a fake half-smile quivering on my face.  You will make a claim about all the wonderful, healthy choices you made this week.  You will say that you'll just skip your cheat day, or trade today in for it.  You'll take the stairs the last 5 flights in your building.  You'll bike to work, or walk a big block around on your lunch hour.  You will make all these weighty claims, just so you can justify ordering the sweet potato fries.  Your friend will say, "Oooooh, naughty!" turn to me, smile, and say she'll have the same.

And for WHAT?  It never ends.  This sick obsession women have with our weight will never end.  The sugar-free, gluten-free, calorie-free bullshit will never, ever fucking end, and -

- I'm sorry, what?  How do I stay so skinny?  Oh my god, stop!  Thank you!  I have a personal trainer; I'll give you his info - he's European and sometimes I can't understand him, but he's super hot!  Sweet potato tots it is, girlfriend.  

Yes, we do have a fat-free ranch.

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