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The Blatherings Of A Blitherer

Steak vs Salad


Nesko and I went out to eat yesterday. Our 2.5 year old son was with us, because baby sitters cost the moon and we rarely see him as it is, so we just drag him with us wherever we go no matter who that annoys. People that it annoys include:

  • him
  • us
  • everyone around us

Haha, fun!

One of the places we went was Chili’s, which is air conditioned and has a kid’s menu and salads larger than my head. Sometimes, you see, I want to eat a salad because salads, when made right, taste good. I mean, blah blah healthy whatever1. But I always feel weird about ordering, and eating, a salad in public. You see, I am a woman and women are judged constantly for everything, including what they put in their mouths. Further, I’m a fat woman, so am subject to extra scrutiny (and a salad is pretty much the only approved thing I can put in my mouth other than water) and extra judgement.

Thanks for ruining salads for me, society. See also: yoghurt, cottage cheese, carrots.

So we’re sitting at our table and Niko has his array of trains spread out all around him, ignoring his chicken, while Nesko eats a big juicy steak and I plow through my salad. And my glass of water 2. And how typical is that? The man gets a steak, the woman gets a salad.

And part of me, you know, wanted to be all EFFFFFF THIIIISSSSSSSSSSS and order a slab of meat as well because I enjoy meat, honestly I do, and I enjoy loaded mashed potatoes and steamed broccoli. But just as I won’t let society dictate to me that I should order a salad when I want meat, I won’t let raw rebellion dictate that I order meat when I want a leafy salad that has a huge amount of avocado on it3 4.

But I’m tired of navigating a world where everything I do– what I eat, what I wear, what I read, what I play, what I listen to, what I make money doing, what I do with my uterus, etc– is scrutinized and judged and criticized by external forces. I want to eat my salad, whether that be a literal or metaphoric salad, and enjoy it, and not worry about what other people are thinking. I don’t eat salad because I am good, or it is good, or there is any concrete moral value associated with salad. I eat salad because sometimes I want salad. Sometimes a salad is just a salad.

  1. I was startled, once, to read a study claiming that people who ate more salads ate more vegetables. I wasn’t stunned because it didn’t make sense, I was stunned because duh. It’s like saying people who eat vegetables eat more vegetables.
  2. I ordered water instead of coke or something because drinks at a restaurant are expensive, and I was on toddler wrangling duty and didn’t think I’d get to actually enjoy my drink. I was right. I only drank a few sips of water, occupied as I was with picking up trains, crayons, and other things that had been cast to the floor and shoveling salad into my gaping maw.
  3. Seriously, there was like 1 1/2 avocados on that salad. That is a lot of avocado. I’m not complaining, mind.
  4. Also: the salad had bacon on it. Salads with bacon are pretty awesome.
posted under eating, feminism, food, life

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