No Turkey For Me

I almost want to go back to eating meat just so people will stop making such a big deal about my vegetarianism. I realize they are just trying to be accommodating, but it has the effect of making me feel like I'm being a royal pain in the ass without even trying.

Home for the holidays, my mom, stepfather and I went out to a local "American Bistro" for dinner. A quick glance of the menu proved that there was very little by way of vegetarian choices. Other than sides of creamed spinach, mushrooms and onions, sauteed veggies and mashed potatoes, the only available vegetarian menu option was a house salad. It cost $2.50. Well, I thought, that's undoubtedly a very small salad.

"There's really not much here for you," my mother said.
"Mom, don't worry about it. I'll find something," I replied. I flipped the menu over and reviewed my choices a second time.
"Well, I guess you could do the spinach salad without the bacon..."
"Mom, stop."
A few seconds later she says, "Geez, you'd think they'd have at least one vegetarian menu item."
"Mom!"
"What? I just want you to find something to eat."
"I will, I won't starve. Promise." I flipped the menu back over and made a third pass.
"Really, we can go somewhere else."
"Mom, it's fine."
"But all they have is a house salad. That's not enough for you, is it?"
"Jesus, Mom. Cut it out. I am perfectly capable of finding something to eat. This is fine, really."
The server came to take our order, and I elected for the spinach salad, minus the bacon. When it came to the table, the $7.95 salad was pathetically small. Two cups of spinach, a quarter of a chopped tomato, a quarter cup of both dried cranberries and gorgonzola. I was dismayed at the price for such a tiny ass salad. Being on a diet, it was perfectly acceptable that there wasn't much on the plate itself.
"Is that enough for you?" my mom asked.
"Yes, I'll be fine."
"That really is a dinky little salad, isn't it?"
"Yes," I agreed, "but I'm on a diet anyway."
"You're going to be hungry later."
"Well, Mom, I'm pretty sure I won't starve. I've done pretty well these past fifteen or so years keeping myself fed."

Seriously. You would think I was either twelve or anorexic, neither of which is true. At what point do parents cut the umbilical cord? Someday it would be nice to be treated like the thirty-four year old grownup I am.