alone by myself?

DSCN5685_bw, originally uploaded by lilylord.

Mediocre to bad in one hot second.

Met Ben for lunch today at Eatwell. Never had a good meal there ever. "You must have been starving in a past life", my mom would tell me as I wolfed down one, then, two then three sandwiches. Growing teenage boys? How about girls. I was not fat as a child (though I thought so, along with many other tweens at the time) but thoughts about food often dominated my consciousness. I was hyper aware of what I would be eating, and exactly what I was not. And except for hot stuff (spicy...ah might as well be throwing dirt on the food), I ate almost anything and could eat just about anywhere.

I had bouts with stomachaches as a kid. Horrible-drive-me-to-the-hospital-room now!-ones. Armies of soldiers stabbing me from the inside. Only to mysteriously quiet down when checked out by the doc. But those ‘bouts only happened a few times and the rest, well, I was ravenous from hunger.

My nervous stomach has developed into quite a touchy stomach as an adult and I have gone months on end feeling nauseated. I'm quite a picky eater now and really only think about food right before I make/eat it or if watching a cooking show.

I had BLT w/avocado and cheese at Eatwell today and the meal was...mediocre, as expected. Whatever. So we get ready to go, but first, a stop to the bathroom, the Women's bathroom. One door, no stalls. Just a lock. I shut the door, lock it too and sit on the toilet. And, BOOM!

I see a male hand punch the door open and then a face peer in. SUPER CREEPY. I slam the door shut. HARD. Ewwwe. Though so slight really, just a second of weirdness, it feels like the thin veneer of my civilization had just been stripped bare. And it's so tiny. So very tiny. The moment. But it's enough to shake me and I storm out, looking straight ahead, not wanting to recognize the jackass who jangled my nerves with such force. Because I wanted to punch him, in the gut, hard. Or at least yell and scream at him. I know it's not the restaurant's fault, but the moment become glued to my mediocre meal experiences at that local and I tell Ben “no more Eatwell!” once outside.

I wonder how Londoners are dealing now that they have uncovered where some of the terrorists are suspected to have lived, not far perhaps, from where they were born. Look straight ahead chaps, gather yourselves and avoid the crappy food if you can.