by Joshua Murphy

Created on: March 24, 2009

The Salad Bar Girl

I didn't know the girl, her metabolism, her prior eating habits, her motivation, or how much weight she was trying to lose. In fact, the whole thing was really none of my business in the first place, but her table was adjacent to ours so in a sense I really had no choice but to be a third-party-omniscient observer for her dining experience that evening.

At least that's how I justified my incessant eavesdropping over dinner. The girl was in her early twenties, about 15 pounds overweight, but with a cute face and naturally curvy figure. She was accompanied by her mother.
I am a male in my late 20's and was out to dinner with my father. I'm guessing that both of our parents were of similar ages and that her parent, like mine, had picked the restaurant. I say this because it was one of those national chain restaurants with mediocre food that specializes in pies of all things.
It is the type of restaurant that would never be able to offer a senior discount because even with a slight reduction, the accumulated revenues lost through bargain-conscious retirees would surely bankrupt each franchise one by one. To take it a step further, I believe I saw a defibrillator in one of those glass wall-mounted cases by the door when we walked into this septuagenarian Mecca.
The girl was complaining to her mother about her boyfriend being on her case about eating better in the New Year and maybe even exercising occasionally. The mother, a rather portly woman with short, dark hair and round cheeks that blended into her chin which in turn seamlessly phased into her neck, told the daughter that any man who wouldn't accept her the way she was simply was not worth her time and if she wanted to lose weight than she should do it for herself, not anyone else.
Despite her mother's lecture on esteem and self-worth, the daughter told the waiter she would just take the salad bar special with a diet Coke. Her mother got the biscuit and gravy, extra creamy mind you, and a side of cornbread with her choice of soup or salad. She opted for soup of course, and went with clam chowder, but did take her daughter's lead and got a diet soda.
In order to walk to the salad bar, the daughter had to pass by our table. While young, there were nonetheless warning signs of genetics beginning to manifest. She had slightly wider than average hips, an ample backside and an overall stumpy presence about her. That being said, she was not fat, but, and yes, there is a but, it was apparent that

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