Honey chicken humilates me for the first and only time.

The single most humiliating and depressing thing happened to me yesterday. It was one of those situations that, a) never happens to you. You hear about it happening to someone else and, b) you have a really smart retort or a reaction for the situation banked away in your brain, just in case it ever happens and you fail to use it because you are in shock when it actually happens.

I don’t super enjoy the Chinese food at Ralph’s Thriftway, but it’s close and I’m lazy, therefore it gets eaten about once a week. Well, I made my weekly trip there last night after work and first hit the soda aisle. They have raspberry ginger ale that is super good. I then hit the chocolate aisle and get a Ghirardelli chocolate bar and also some dark M&M’s because I had heard they were being discontinued, which greatly disappointed me. I get allergy medicine and some Rainier cherries, because they looked good and I couldn’t walk out of there looking like I was shopping while stoned. My last stop, China Express. A woman gets in line right behind me while the asian lady behind the counter asks me what I want. I order my honey chicken and my two eggrolls. This is when it happened. The asian lady says, “oh, you teach your baby to like Chinese food?” Yeah, you heard it. The second she says it, I don’t question her meaning. I don’t even hesitate in figuring out what she’s implying. The bitch thinks I’m fucking knocked up. I say back to her, “baby?” while looking her dead in the eyes and I’m sure looking extremely pissed. She then giggles and says (while looking directly at my enormous gut, “oh, I thought you pregnant!” “No, I’m not” I say.

NO I AM NOT. JESUS H. FUCKING CHRIST, DID THIS SERIOUSLY JUST HAPPEN TO ME.?????

So, instead of getting indignant and telling her to take her chow mein and shove it up her fucking ass and walking away with no fried food and jogging home instead of driving, I proceed to wait while she finishes up packing up my “food” and walk away toward the check stand with it. Keep in mind that the lady in line behind me, was next to me the whole time listening to this bullshit exchange. So, not only did I have to be humiliated by an ignorant old cunt, but the skinny bitch behind me got to watch me be humiliated.

I go stand in line with my basket full of shame. I’m waiting and staring into my basket thinking to myself, “I should not be purchasing any of this….except the cherries, those can stay.” But do I go put the chocolate back? No. Do I take the honey chicken back to the China Express and throw it kung fu style back at the old cunt? No. I pay for my highly overpriced, underflavored shame food and go home to consume it. And I do. But not all of it. I honestly couldn’t choke all of it down, where under normal circumstances I would have cleaned my plate. Then later on when I grabbed the four dollar candy bar I had bought, I only ate two bites. I just couldn’t do it. I wished I hadn’t bought any of it. I really wish I hadn’t wasted my money.

I didn’t cry. I was pretty proud of myself and quite surprised. I had just had my worst fears and my own twisted image of myself confirmed by a stranger and I didn’t get emotional about it. Until bedtime….that’s when you don’t have the TV or anything else to distract you. I laid there and thought about it all night and cried a little. Just a little. I certainly did not cry myself to sleep, but again, surprised I didn’t.

One of the most disturbing things about this situation is that one of my first thoughts was NOT “wow, I should really hit the gym.” It was “wow, I need to get some clothes that cover up my gut.”

As a result of this I honestly don’t want to go into public anymore. Seriously. I know how people are. The things people think are always worse than what they say. I know, because I’m one of them. I’m the asshole that thinks that some chick should absolutely not be wearing what she’s wearing. Her ass is way to fat for those shorts. Her stomach is hanging out of her shirt or over her pants. I think really mean things about people and of course, I’m the type of person to say it out loud to my friends. I know how people are. And now I know how the fat girl feels. All of my clothes fit me 35 pounds ago, so they are tight. They accentuate the areas that I don’t want accentuated. But, I can’t go buy new fat clothes. Not only can I not afford to do that monetarily, but I can’t afford to do it emotionally. If I go spend money on bigger clothes, to me that means that I’m ok with how my body looks, and I’m going to live with it. And I’m not ok with how my body looks. But in the meantime I’m the fat girl at the grocery store buying fried food and candy while the image of skinny asshole Lisa walks behind me saying to herself, “like she should really be eating that shit. Jesus, get a fucking salad.”

Needless to say, I won’t be eating China Express anymore. The food sucks anyway.

Really?

THIS is how you chose to spell your name Jhenine? What do you want to bet that this bitch (that works at a weird Hooters wanna be restaurant in Lacey) was born with it spelled Jeanine, like a normal set of parents would spell it. When she hit 21 and realized that her tits could get her somewhere in the world (but not really far enough cause she has a butterface), she decided to change the spelling of her name to something more interesting because she couldn't bring herself to make her personality more interesting.

How you know you are too handicapped to drive....

...when you can't park properly in the handicapped spot at Fred Meyer.

Cute Guy: Please read this and act on it on August 8th, 2009

http://www.holytaco.com/how-score-bridesmaid-wedding