Okay so there is no real photo of me and Jimmy, but this is about as close (and as intimate) as it’s ever going to get. I deeply adore Jimmy and especially his skits with Justin Timberlake; but then again, what twentysomething middle class white girl in America doesn’t (pause for no response).
I don’t have much to say in this post about Jimmy Fallon or about Ben & Jerry’s recent “The Tonight Dough” flavor (though, thank GOD it exists because it was sent straight from heaven). I do, however, have something to say about common ground and bartending and girls who are only a little overweight.
During one of my most recent shifts at the bar, I had a girl come by and visit with her boyfriend. They were visiting Chattanooga for the weekend, asking for lots of recommendations because duh, ask a local! They had been in the night before and done some serious shots of Patron before leaving for dinner at the place I recommended. They forgot their phone at the table, so I knew they would have stories to tell. They only stayed for one drink this night though, and contemplated Turtle Cheesecake. How one says “no” to such a thing after pondering is beyond me. Anyway, they opted NOT to get the cheesecake and call it a night instead. Bummer for me — but wait.
Not thirty minutes later but who should appear? Our patron no-turtle-cheesecake girlfriend, that is. She immediately ordered the aforementioned cheesecake and one more beer. Oh, and cheese fries. Bless her. No seriously, I love this. Immediately upon sitting down, she explains to me:
“I mean, you can see it. I’m a little bigger.”
Let me first say that this girl had a larger frame, but a pretty normal shape and weight for that frame. She pauses to show me the parts of herself that she would consider to be bigger. She half-hugs herself and then starts poking her thighs and jiggling her arms. She’s barely 30 years old.
“I mean, you saw me with him. He’s smaller than me — he is also eleven years older than me. But he fills up quicker, but at the end of it all I am still hungry. Do you get it? ”
“I feel ya, girl,” I said. Boy, do I. This girl came back down to order what she REALLY wanted in the first place but just conceded not to get in front of her “better half” of sorts.
“Please put this in a to-go box so that I can trash the evidence before he wakes up.”
Why on EARTH is she hiding the fact that she really DID want that piece of cheesecake from the guy she’s with? This is not a post to say men are responsible for women’s closeted eating habits. I don’t know the history of their relationship, and maybe it’s just her personal issue. Maybe it’s not even that, but she was drunk so of course she was being over-the-top.
Rather, I would like to call attention to the common trend of keeping secrets like this from people that you’re with. Again, not trying to shame her specifically because I’ve done this myself. There have been secret-keeping tendencies in some of my friendships that weren’t all because of “boundaries” or it not being “their business.”
People: if you want to order dessert, do it. Take it a step further. Order two if you can’t decide. And tell everyone about that sorbet, or that truffle. Or that piece-o-pie. You could even Instagram it and show MORE than just your S.O. that you’re shamelessly eating sweets in front of other people and it’s because you wanted it and it’s because it tastes so good. Plus, chocolate.
So why the photo of Jimmy Fallon? Well, this is the pint of ice cream that I bought after the bar shift from hell on no food, low-grade headache, and all on my own. It was a celebratory/therapy purchase. Instead of pretending like I don’t sometimes buy a pint at the end of a rough night, here’s all the proof you need.