I hate eating with the women from the office. I realize how sexist that might sound, seeing as how I’m a man, but in my defense it’s not their gender I dislike so much as how they’re afraid to do normal everyday things that no guy in his right mind would be scared to do. Like, eat a burger in front of other people, for example. A man could order a burger, bite into it, have all the toppings spill out onto his white business shirt and he would still order one the next day for lunch. Seriously, that’s how not afraid of food we are.
I had no choice but to eat with them today, though. It was Quarterly Review Day for all the Regional Directors in the southeast region, and since the other three branches are exactly one hour away from mine, we all decided to meet in my neck of the woods. I like the meeting part when Wendy, Martha and Priscilla come to town. They’re all very smart, creative, hard-working women. They’re funny as well. They just have weird hang ups about food.
Take Wendy. She’s what people used to refer to as “Plus Size”, back when it was decided that “plus size” was more politically correct than calling someone fat. I think people are supposed to say “Curvy” now, but that may have changed in the last few minutes. Anyway, I can tell by her ‘curves’ that she likes to eat, and a lot more than just fruit and vegetables, which I’m totally cool with by the way. In fact, I love a woman who appreciates food as much as I do. Have lunch with Wendy, though, and you’d never know it. Wendy only ever orders a garden salad and a glass of water. When the server asks what kind of dressing she wants for her salad, she always says she’s like it dressing free. She doesn’t even get a lemon wedge for her water.
Then there’s Martha. I’m sorry, if your name is Martha than you need to be all Martha Stewart about food. Don’t order a veggie wrap, take two bites of it and then ask your server to box it up for you. Eat the whole wrap, order lattice fries to go with that wrap and eat all of those, and then ‘wrap’ it all up by downing something chocolate for dessert. Use your index finger to clear the plate of crumbs, too. Corporate’s paying, so live it up.
I don’t think poor Priscilla has ever lived it up at meal time, however. Her go-to favourite dish is food poisoning with a side of air. Every time we get together, she claims to have ate something that didn’t agree with her the night before, so she just sits there and breathes in all the wonderful smells of the restaurant while she watches us eat.
I, on the other hand, ordered a peppercorn burger, topped with bacon and onion rings, fries with gravy, a regular Coke (screw that Diet nonsense), and a slice of pecan pie for dessert today for lunch. And do you know what? I didn’t feel the least bit guilty. I felt – well, if I were to get hit by a bus on my way home tonight and this ended up being my last meal, I would be at peace with that. That’s how satisfying my meal was.
There is nothing satisfying about rabbit food, or a few nibbles, or sucking in air. Life is short people. Stop counting the calories and eat a damn burger!