A Plate Full of Progress

Like many husbands/boyfriends/partners before him, Dave  claims finishing rights to my plate when we go out to eat.  On my ornery days this prompts me to order things laden with tomatoes, mushrooms & seafood in an effort to protect my lunch leftovers.

Through most of our relationship I would insist that if Dave was going to finish my food he HAD to take the plate & set it in front of him, as a signal to the server that I hadn't eaten all of the food...because the judgement of a server that I would likely never see again was too much for this obese girl to bear.

This evening, while Dave was scavenging off of the plate while it was still in front of me, I realized that sometime in the not to distant past I've grown beyond that.  It's not a big deal, but it's a deal & I'll take it--evidence of mental progress.  I won't say that the server isn't judging me (I was a server for FAR to long to delude myself of that), but I will say that I don't give a flying fig.  Proof that my head has in fact changed though my tush is back to a size that I find regrettable.  Or maybe it's proof that I'm a mom of three littles & I don't have the energy to waste on judgmental strangers.  Either way, I'm not stressing about the unimportant opinions that others hold of me.  So I've got that goin' for me--which is nice.