I Don't Know How You Eat All That

Welcome to "I Don't Know How You Eat All That: An Online Response to an Ongoing Offline Situation."

In today's episode, I ate an entire salad. It was, you know, a big salad, because I'm a growing girl, I eat a small breakfast, and ... I was hungry? (In future episodes, we will explore the need that a grown-assed woman feels to justify why she's eating a thing she wanted to eat, particularly when the thing she wanted to eat consisted of greens and a tomato, with a bit of oil and vinegar dressing for flavor. I OWE YOU NO EXPLANATION.)

In today's episode, I ate an entire salad across the table from a colleague. This colleague is obsessed with something called "calories" and spends most of her time counting them, the way I would count change from the sofa. Or deposits in my bank account. Or minutes until I could get away from her.

In today's episode, I ate an entire salad with this colleague because a.) we had business to discuss and b.) I'm trying to be healthier. I don't want to take it to her level because, while I would enjoy being rail thin and therefore as gorgeous outside as in, I enjoy eating more. I am not to the place where I love salads, right now. It will come. Right now, it's more of a chore or an obligation, and while I chew, I chant to myself, "Fit in shorts. Fit in shorts."

Last night, for what it's worth, I ate a plate of four different kinds of squash. Which was delicious. And, I am told, possibly nutritious? But they don't sell a plate of baked squash at any of the local lunch places, and I was trying to be sociable. Fit in shorts. Fitinshorts. Fitinshorts.

Summers in Kansas get fucking hot. Wearing jeans and staying indoors really isn't an option, here.

So we're finishing up our salads, and I notice that this obnoxious woman has left half the salad in her bowl and is loudly proclaiming, "Ugh, I'm so full." And then she eyes mine, which is, barring the croutons I can't eat (damn you, gluten!), almost empty. "I don't know how you eat all that," she said with disgust.

Were this an isolated incident, I would assume she was just impressed at my ability to pack away salads. However, she has made this remark before. In the past, it's been about desserts. French fries. Hamburgers. Things more delicious that she does not allow herself.

"I don't know how you eat all that," she repeats again, fidgeting with her arm-band fitness tracker, in the way she does when you ask her if she wants a cookie. (Not that I would ever do that in a passive-aggressive retaliation. That would be cruel.) She's calculating how many calories I have just eaten, in spite of the fact that I just ate a bunch of leafy greens for things like VITAMINS and eschewed all the fancy salads because of things like CARBOHYDRATES.

I am new to this healthy thing, but I know the buzz-words. She shook her head and I smiled. Oh, the things I would say if only I were free to say them. For my own sanity, I've made a list below.

Feel free to add yours!

___

Alternating between small, dainty bites and swallowing without chewing. (Inferred: Like the enormous cow that you obviously believe me to be.)

With a knife and fork. How else? (Smiling broadly! White teeth and innocence!)

WITH FUCKING ENTHUSIASM. (Inferred: YOU BITCH.)

I pretend the dark bits are brownies! (Inferred: Still a fatty, thanks for asking.)