Fat Kid

“Matthew, sweetheart, tell the nice lady what you want,” the trophy-wife woman at Table 3 asked her overweight son.

The kid looked over the menu like it was the first piece of literature to ever fall into his hands. I stood there for about three minutes while this kid looked at the menu, which in table-time translates to three hours.

“Um… I think I’ll have the Pad Thai,” he finally whispered.

The mother shot him a look so intense that it probably gave him, his ‘roid-pumped father, gaunt sister, me and everyone else in the restaurant cancer.

“How large is that portion of Pad Thai?”,” she asked, emphasizing the word “large” while keeping her nuclear glare on her husky offspring.

I showed her using a rough sketch with both my thumbs and forefingers. I tried to cut the kid a break by underestimating it (The Pad Thai’s huge). She looked like she was going murder him.

“Nevermind,” the boy squeaks in defeat. I bet my parents, who live two hours away, could hear this kid’s stomach rumble and think it was the wake of a blitzkrieg. “I’ll have the tofu salad… Dressing on the side.”

“Anything to drink?” I asked.

“A Coke,” he mumbled.

“A Diet Coke,” the mother corrected the boy, giving him another small dose of her eyeball radiation. “I’ll have the same. Dressing on the side.”

The pressure to be thin in this country, particularly among the Yuppie set, is enormous. Then again, America’s obesity rate continues to climb or stabilize in each and every state. Australia thinks this is so funny, that they plastered it on their headline news.

Our country is the butt of a few fat jokes in the rest of the world’s national headlines. And this poor kid’s radioactive mother has absolutely no sense of humor.


3 Responses to “Fat Kid”

  1. That kind of shit makes me absolutely furious. There’s a family that comes into my restaurant every time who has their little boy on a diet–he’s about five. He gets dry noodles and broccoli with diet coke, while his brother gets fried chicken and french fries with chocolate milk. At first I thought maybe he was lactose intolerant or had a food allergy or something, because the kid is not fat–until mom whipped out a fat gram counter and began to tell him how many fat grams he’d consumed that day.

  2. I feel bad for that poor kid. If you want your child to diet or whatever, eat at home. Don’t torture the poor child by taking him out to eat for a salad.
    On the other hand, I agree with you about being the butt of fat jokes.

  3. Poor little guy. Parents can be so cruel.

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