16 to 50: 1994 -- The Skinny Sandwich
It was while I was working in the Allied Health office with Kat that I had an experience that I have since come to refer to as The Skinny Sandwich.
My working hours were mostly scheduled for the days I was on campus, which was sensible. I occasionally had early classes (for me, that meant anything before 10 AM), which meant no breakfast, because I'm not one of those people who can leap out of bed and face food.
So come 12:30-1:00, which was about the time my student assistanct job started, I was starving. If I had money, I'd raid the vending machines or see if there was anything appetizing at the cafeteria. Mostly I'd wait til I got home and devour everything in sight.
There was another student assistant in the office---I think her name was Rhoda or Rhonda, something like that. Anyway, she was a sweet girl, petite, brunette, soft-spoken---and one afternoon, she offered me her sandwich. She was getting ready to leave and go have lunch with her boyfriend, so it needed a good home.
Did I mention she was petite? Let me tell you why: This sandwich consisted of two naked slices of white bread, about six fronds of lettuce, and ONE thin shaving of ham. Seriously, you could read a newspaper through it.
I'm not mocking Rhoda/Rhonda's generousity; it was meant kindly. But it underscored to me the difference between me (somewhere in the 330 range at the time) and her (one-third that). If I had made that sandwich, it would've been glued together with mayonaise and mustard, there would have been a quarter-pound of pig on it, some cheese, and no lettuce whatsoever, because I am not in the habit of confusing a salad with a sandwich, and besides, I loathe iceburg lettuce.
I like food. I enjoy a good sandwich (again, one not trying to disguise itself as a salad, where meat and cheese are the primary ingredients), a good pizza, fried chicken and all the other pleasures of the table in plenty. Which is why I've been over 300 pounds for the last twenty years---moderation is not something that comes naturally to me. I regard a "skinny" sandwich like that as a travesty, and I feel a little sorry for someone who gets so little joy from the most basic human pleasure.
Although...she *did* have a boyfriend. She was probably getting a few basic human pleasures that way....
.
My working hours were mostly scheduled for the days I was on campus, which was sensible. I occasionally had early classes (for me, that meant anything before 10 AM), which meant no breakfast, because I'm not one of those people who can leap out of bed and face food.
So come 12:30-1:00, which was about the time my student assistanct job started, I was starving. If I had money, I'd raid the vending machines or see if there was anything appetizing at the cafeteria. Mostly I'd wait til I got home and devour everything in sight.
There was another student assistant in the office---I think her name was Rhoda or Rhonda, something like that. Anyway, she was a sweet girl, petite, brunette, soft-spoken---and one afternoon, she offered me her sandwich. She was getting ready to leave and go have lunch with her boyfriend, so it needed a good home.
Did I mention she was petite? Let me tell you why: This sandwich consisted of two naked slices of white bread, about six fronds of lettuce, and ONE thin shaving of ham. Seriously, you could read a newspaper through it.
I'm not mocking Rhoda/Rhonda's generousity; it was meant kindly. But it underscored to me the difference between me (somewhere in the 330 range at the time) and her (one-third that). If I had made that sandwich, it would've been glued together with mayonaise and mustard, there would have been a quarter-pound of pig on it, some cheese, and no lettuce whatsoever, because I am not in the habit of confusing a salad with a sandwich, and besides, I loathe iceburg lettuce.
I like food. I enjoy a good sandwich (again, one not trying to disguise itself as a salad, where meat and cheese are the primary ingredients), a good pizza, fried chicken and all the other pleasures of the table in plenty. Which is why I've been over 300 pounds for the last twenty years---moderation is not something that comes naturally to me. I regard a "skinny" sandwich like that as a travesty, and I feel a little sorry for someone who gets so little joy from the most basic human pleasure.
Although...she *did* have a boyfriend. She was probably getting a few basic human pleasures that way....
.