It was a first draft. But so far, her breakup email read something like this:
Dear foodie boyfriend—it’s been fun, but it’s over. You see, staying with you is turning me into a fat ass.
“Um, maybe something a little less harsh?” I suggested, exchanging Daisy’s third glass of wine for a sobering cup of tea.
Daisy and “John” had been one of those PDA couples that made the rest of us uncomfortable with their constant snuggling. We tried not to vomit when he told us (repeatedly) about their first date in his moony, love-drunk voice. Yes, John, we know— when Daisy ordered that 18-oz Chateaubriand steak and ate every last bite, you knew she was “the one.”
What John probably didn’t know was that Daisy’s choice of entrée was a calculated decision. She knew that, in today’s food-obsessed world, what a girl eats at the dinner table says a thing or two about her.
“What would you like to order?” seems a simple enough question, but these days it is just loaded as those casual-but-not inquiries about your favorite music, hobby, or movie. Every answer is inevitably scrutinized in an attempt to break down your personality and slap a label on it.
A girl who opts for the garden salad sends out the message that she’s body-conscious and thus, insecure. If she settles on a simple grilled chicken, then chances are she’s boring. If she can’t decide what to order, then warning lights spelling “high maintenance” start flashing.