When I hear or read the phrase “as dignified as royalty”, I wonder if it will ever be used for me.
Not that I have any royal aspirations, I have enough of a job ruling my own life to ever dream of having people under my thumb (though it does make for some pleasant visions).
Unfortunately, I am a total klutz. When entering a restaurant, my very good friend pulls out a chair for me to sit on, arranges all the cutlery around my plate, makes sure the sauces are kept to a side and that the glasses are just within my reach. The people around us usually wonder why I do not glow in the company of such a chivalrous man (chivalry being the “Golden Fleece” that women search for in this age). Only the two of us (or any other close friend around) know the real reason – this is to reduce the probability of him having to spend dinner under the table searching for fallen forks and spoons while dashing to wash off the sauce stains from his shirt in the midst of profuse apologies to the people on the tables around us for the sprinkling of water and other liquids while the glasses fell around. No, it is not because of the advent of Armageddon, though people have compared dining with me to that now and then, it is more to do with the absent motor abilities in my hands, legs and other body parts.
I could look around to signal the waiter and find someone else’s head nearby to hit pretty hard giving them a good concussion for free with my eyes wide open.
The same me has been referred to as “sophisticated”, “posh” and “snobbish” by people who have been lucky enough not to sit at the same table for dinner or lunch. They see the drinks and the clothes which to a certain extent, disguise me as one of the sane safe women to dine with.
While this seems to be a problem only with formal dining, I have more of an issue with fast food. I can eat anything with a fork and knife but a Pizza. I am the person who has taught a number of people how to use knives, forks and spoons correctly for a number of dishes, but even I bow down to my nemesis in this area. I just can’t seem to cut through the bread. If at any time, you see a woman hacking away at a Pizza for more than five minutes without any progress made, do stop and say a Hi to me. Ever since the fork I was using flew onto the next table and landed (rather tamely on the table instead of anyone) between a couple with their heads suspiciously too close to each other, I have stuck to having the slice with my hands.
As for the essential burger, I am ashamed to say that I have never been able to eat it the way it should be for a simple reason, I just cannot open my mouth wide enough to take a bite. So I nibble at it, a layer at a time. Bread first, then the patty, then the bread again and then chew. (I always leave the cheese out, that is just another layer too many). I now stick to ordering for a portion of fries alone in the unlikely event that anyone convinces me to drop into McD for a snack.
One would think that will all the issues I have with respect to eating, I would order just the simplest courses. But I love to order exotic sounding dishes with unpronouncable names having descriptions like ’sauteed with cream and smoked beans etc’ and then have a jab at it to check if it is definitely edible. You could almost say that my taste in food is like my taste in men – order the dangerous sounding ones and then savour them until they become ordinary, drop them off the menu at this point and order the next one.
