Now If Only I Can Get The Paranoia To-Go

I went to lunch with my friend this week at Claim Jumpers. Are you guys familiar with this place and the unholy portion sizes they serve? They are famous for serving gigantic, oversized meals that are a challenge for even the fattest fatty to finish. They have a six-layer chocolate cake they call The Motherlode and a mother-f###ing load it is! Whoo, what a beauty! Anyways… I was a good girl and had their gigantic house salad. Not the lowest in fat or calories that you can get but at least it wasn’t their chicken fried steak with mashed potatoes, biscuit and vat o’ gravy (which is what I really wanted!) My friend ordered the bread bowl of potato and cheddar soup and bowtie pasta with chicken. While the waitress took our order, my friend asked if we could also get a cheeseburger and fries to go. Then my friend paused for a second and added, “for my fiancé”. She looked at me and smiled and I smiled back because we both knew we were thinking the same thing. This skinny ass little waitress might think that the chubby girls in the corner booth not only ordered a full meal each but they also got a second one to-go, you know, as a snack to split for the ride home. I very highly doubt that the waitress would have assumed that this second meal was also for us to eat. I bet she gets requests like this all the time and would never have given it a moment of thought. I think that feeling it’s necessary to clarify that the meal is for someone else results from the experience of having actually secretly ordered a second meal for yourself. See, I have actually gone through a drive-thru and ordered so much food for myself that I have to try and pass it off like it’s for two people. I’ve actually ordered a meal and then said, “I’ll also have a combo # such and such… oh wait, (mumbling loudly to myself) he didn’t want onions… Can you make sure that doesn’t have any onions?” As if to say to the drive-thru worker, “I may be alone in this car but I’m also ordering for somebody at home.” Although it’s been a long while since an eating binge like this, I’ve done it enough in the past for me to still feel paranoid that someone might find out that all that food is just for my fat self. So much to the point that even when really honestly ordering food for someone else, the paranoia still lingers. My friend’s clarification of “it’s for my fiancé” suggests that she has had the same experience also. Even though the cheeseburger really truly was for her fiancé there is still that compulsion to explain it anyways so that no one thinks you’re a fat girl eating a disgusting amount of food. My friend and I didn’t discuss the situation; there was no need. Sometimes fatgirl experience transcends the need for language or explanation. Our smiles to each other pretty much said it all.