Amen, sister. Luckily, my current man and I share a passion for the cow. And the bacon. Ironically, though, he's the only one who likes sausage... :)

The only people whose presence has ever affected my ordering is my father-in-law and his wife. He hates fat people and his wife is a chronic restricted eater. He used to comment on my decreasing size each time we saw him, which is deeply skeevy. Last time we visited them was after I'd stopped dieting and was therefore heavier. We went out for a meal, his wife ate WATERMELON AS HER MEAL for heaven's sake, and I decided to heck with this. I had pancakes, sausage, and eggs, a breakfast of lumberjackian proportions. It was....awesome. He was appalled, I was empowered; it was a good day.

Since I have a female partner the gender dynamics don't come into play for me. Both my partner and I have lost a great deal of weight over the past year so now sometimes when we have additional dining companions there is sometimes a discussion about how "virtuous" we are because we frequently share entrees. The person then goes on to apologize for whatever he or she has ordered. Like "oh I know I'm bad for getting this" and "you all are so good for sharing." We share because portion sizes in restaurants are frequently too big for either of us to finish alone and very frequently we want to eat the same thing. If we don't want to eat the same thing we order different things and toss the extras but our dining companions never seem to get that. There always seem to be a belief that we're both going to leave the restaurant starving because we didn't each wolf down a 10oz steak.

"Dude, I can't help it B and I both want the Cuban veggie plate. It's ok that we want it. It's not a condemnation of you or your steak. I'll probably order a steak next time. Thank you for not making me feel guilty for inadvertently making you feel bad because you ordered steak while I'm eating rice, beans and plantains."

Amen to "please stop letting your food choices be determined by your perception of the person sitting across the table."

"Stop waiting for permission to feed yourself. We're all adults. If you want some goddamn chocolate cake, eat it without judgment and to hell with anyone who thinks differently."

A-fucking-men. You are fantastic.

"Don't wait to order dessert until someone else has ordered it, either. Stop waiting for permission to feed yourself."

THANK YOU.I used to have a (very thin) friend who always, ALWAYS begged me to split a dessert with her, or at least order one, too, so she wouldn't feel like such a cow. I am not at all anti-dessert, but as it happens, I'm more of a savory girl than a sweet girl; I'd much rather fill up on the filet mignon and potatoes and asparagus with Hollandaise than save room for dessert. So quite often, when she would start her dessert campaign, I would be FULL and just not interested.

She couldn't cope with that, at all. And it was clear that not only was she bothered by the thought of being the only woman ordering dessert, she was REALLY bothered by the idea of ordering dessert when even the fat chick wasn't interested. She didn't ever seem to process that the fat chick had eaten A FULL MEAL already, while she was more the type to eat a small salad for dinner to justify ordering a big honkin' dessert afterwards.

It drove me friggin' insane that she could never just order the dessert she wanted unless she had an accomplice. And when I passed, she'd inevitably act all butthurt, like *I* was the one depriving her of dessert.

So, uh, yeah. Stop waiting for permission to feed yourself. And stop annoying your friends with that crap.

As a child I remember scanning the menu to find something appropriate to eat based on price, not on desire. Not necessarily the cheapest thing, but *certainly* not the most expensive, lest I get the hairy eyeball from my dad (who could well afford anything we wanted to eat).

My brother, on the other hand, got to order whatever he wanted without admonition.

I remember sitting across from my 13 year old sister in law as she ordered a beautiful steak at a fancy restaurant without batting an eyelash. I was simultaneously irritated and elated...irritated because my first reaction was "who does she think she is?" and elated because I realized that she didn't look at life as having to always take the smaller piece of cake.

Great piece!

Anyone who knows me for very long knows my motto: Raisins Ruin Eveything, and, Bacon Makes it Better.

I think I would really like to plaster the slogan "Stop Waiting for Permission to Feed Yourself" all over my college campus - trees, buildings, the asses of the anorexics working out in the gym in pearls - all the basic places.

And although I'm totally empowered by the entry and completely willing to tattoo the finer points on my body, I must admit that I'm still ensnared by the way it's always been. When in the company of friends and loved ones I'm always able to order my favorite cream sauce covered pasta dish with no remorse, but anytime I'm sitting to dine with people I barely know, I'm still ordering a salad. You are a stronger woman than I am - my hurt scared little fat girl heart is still all pruiny and wounded and not willing to be embarrassed, judged, or for that matter just simply discovered. A hopelessly dillusional part of my mind will always say "if i order the salad these people won't notice that i'm fat, somehow their ability to recognize my J cup boobs will miraculously disappear because hey, i'm eating the same thing as the size 2 girl across from me." ...of course, i'm gonna eat the whole damn thing.

Thanks for your thoughts. My mother didn't have a bob though. Not that I remember at least. She doesn't have one now. That I know. Keep reading!