Rotund and Other Words

Apparently I’m fat.

Seriously.

Whilst in California for Thanksgiving, I ate out with various family members perhaps 8 times. There were roughly four lunches, two dinners, a breakfast, and one ‘random’ meal that just sort of happened when a taco truck crashed into my mother’s backyard.

Anyway, this is not about the food, it’s about the drinks. I always get a regular Coke (Pepsi, whatever). Every single time I got a refill, the waiter/waitress would ask if it was diet. This is pretty much how it went:

Waiter: Want a refill on that?

Me: Sure (hands glass over).

Waiter: That was a diet, right?

Me: Nope. Regular.

Waiter: Okay, I’ll be back with that diet refill in just a moment.

Me: No, regular.

Waiter: Diet.

Me: Regular.

Waiter: Diet.

Me: Reeeeggggggguuuuuulllllllaaaaaaarrrrrrrr.

Waiter: Dddddddiiiiiiiiieeeeeeeetttttt.

Me: Just bring me a water.

Waiter: Toilet water coming right up!

To make matters worse, 1 in 3 times they would still bring me diet. Now, I don’t think I’m that out of shape, but apparently, waiters in California think I am. I didn’t help that my fitness buff brother (he’s approximately 8% body fat) felt the need to point this out.

“Wow,” he would say. “Looks like the waiter’s trying to tell you something!” And then he’d flex and I’d die a little inside.

NOTE: Yes, we’re that mean to each other. It’s how we show affection.

So, I have decided to do something about this. No, I’m not going to exercise more. I’m going to make little stickers that say ‘Regular’ and tape them to the glass when I get it, so the waiter knows what I want.

And maybe stop eating out in California quite so much.

Cheers,
-Jason