It seems simple, right? You order the food, you pick up the food, you eat the food.
Easy... except for (on some days and this being one of them) the picking it up part.
What do you mean I have to go in?!
Now if it were drive through? No problem. But actually having to walk into a nice establishment, see people and interact with them... on some days, can be the WORST.
Normally, you could consider me to be a social butterfly... I love to go out and have fun no matter the occasion. But then there are other days when I can barely put in the effort to brush my teeth. It's on these days that I just want to burrow back into my rabbit hole where I don't have to see anyone, talk to anyone or do anything. I can just exist, in my little grey cloud of motivation-sucking self pity.
This was one of those days, but I was hungry and I desperately wanted a dynamite roll. (I always think food will make me feel better, yet it never does. It only drives me further into the hole which makes it that much harder to get out of. Unless I eat a salad... but who on god's green earth orders a SALAD when they're feeling vulnerable? Nuh-uh, it's the good stuff all the way. And on on this particular day, the good stuff equated to a dynamite roll from earls.)
So off I went, acting all nonchalant as if I didn't care about what I looked like. And why should I care? I looked hot as hell standing in the lobby in my hole-y sweats, ragged sweater, no makeup and unwashed hair... and as you can imagine, my mood was equally amazing.
While I was waiting, I couldn't help but notice the host staff fluttering around me like little fairies on speed... One with his too-tight jeans and emo-fro, and the other with her 5 inch heels and 12 inch waist...
Wait... who am I kidding, they both had 12 inch waists.
I felt completely out of place.
Every now and then we would make eye contact. I would smile, as I often do to try and be nice, but instead I would be shut down by millennial arrogance as they quickly glanced away. No conversation, not even an attempt. Are they judging me? Probably. Are they whispering about me? Probably not.
What would appear to everyone else as a normal situation (hey, I'm just a girl waiting for her food... possibly a little bit hangry but a normal situation none-the-less), was to me, a very stressful one.
I was shaking.
I could feel the rush of electricity that is my anxiety surging through my pulsating veins.
Get. Me. Out of here! Why is the food taking so long? Am I early? Question after question sped through my mind as I over-analyzed everything. I had to take a deep breath to slow my (unrealistic) thoughts down... Look cool Mo, look cool. *brushes her hair back and takes another deep breath... "I got this."*
Finally the food came, but not before twenty minutes went by that seemed like an hour.
It's crazy the affect our mind can have on us. Nothing ever happened that would realistically warrant the thoughts I had this evening. It was my own insecurity that took center stage as I over-analyzed the situation and started comparing myself to others. By the time I returned home I was over it, and although temporary, that dynamite roll was daaamn good.