Tomato basil artichoke soup and an illegal salad. Notice the remnants of the meat-and french fry-frenzy that Jeff had. Pig.

My first business lunch was as bad as I imagined.

I am so disappointed. And mad. And discouraged.

I had lunch with my good friend Jeff today. As we began to catch up on life, I picked up the menu.

It was an orgy of meat words.

Burgers! Pork! Steak! Chicken! Ribs! All for you, Mike! All for you.

I calmly ignored the temptation of sins of the flesh, and looked for, you know, PB crap.

The waitress walked up. I felt some pressure. Now, I was trying to find something, anything, that I was “allowed” to eat.

“I’m on a PB 22 Day Challenge,” I told her proudly.

She looked at me blankly.

“Well, I guess you could have the soup and a salad.”

I asked her what the soup du jour was.

“Tomato basil bisque with artichoke.”

My mind raced. So many questions to answer!

I think that’s all legal. And artichoke. That sounds like a sad little healthy plant.

“Sure I’ll have the soup,” I say triumphantly as I hand her the menu. I did it!

“Do you want a salad?”

“Um…” Salad’s gotta be legal, right? “Yes.”

“Do you want dressing?”

Dang. “Sure. Whatever is good.”

My friend Jeff looks at me and calmly says,
“I’ll have the Whole Hog. With fries.”

“Whole Hog?” Really?! Is that a burger AND roast beef AND bacon AND cheese AND onion ring? Good Lord.

I don’t care if we’ve been friends for over 40 years, Jeff. I hate you really hard right now.

I thought I did the right thing.

Then the “meal” comes, and I realize

There’s milk in the soup
There’s cheese all through the salad
The dressing is some kind of creamy non-plant disaster.

As I guiltily swallow a couple strands of cheese, I watch Jeff gnawing away at his burger, juice dripping down his chin. I can hear him snorting with joy (might have been my imagination, not sure.)

How discouraging.

You try to do the right thing, and you still fail.

I simply cannot even imagine how anyone can eat PB at a restaurant.

This is a big deal! I don’t eat out much, but when I do, I’d like to have a few options and actually enjoy it. Oh, and not end up hating the person I’m eating with.

I left feeling defeated.

Heidi and I talked it over at home. After some conversation, I’ve sketched out a few rules so that fiasco doesn’t happen again.

Here they are:

Mike’s Rules for eating at restaurants

Plan ahead. Look at the menu online so you aren’t blindsided at the table with meat words.
Decide ahead of time what to order. All the way down to dressing.
Pre-snack. Maybe I’ll eat a little before leaving home so I won’t be as hungry.
Don’t be a hate-ah. Do NOT hate your dining partner. It’s really not their fault. Although Jeff did seem a little extra happy at my suffering.
Nobody cares you’re eating PB. Really, no one cares. Just suck it up and order something.
Forgive yourself. There’s no jail time for making a mistake. So I messed up. Big whoop.
It’s always, always a choice, dude! Nobody’s forcing me to do this.
It’s just a lunch. Whether you order a Whole Hog, a perfect PB meal, or make a mistake, you’ll survive.

So. First meal out? Failure. So what.

I’ll keep going. Hey, it’s life.

But I do hope Jeff got heartburn.

Day 4 Update: Today was the first time I was actually hungry. But, honestly? It’s probably okay if little Mikey feels a little rumbly in his tumbly. It reminds me why I’m doing this. I want to lose weight.

And, the food Heidi is making is actually something I am not hating. Thank you, Heidi, for all your hard work for us.

Something you can do right now:

Next time you eat out, look at the menu. How “PB” is it? what would you order if you wanted to go PB?
Do you think my Rules are good? What am I missing?

Day 4: I will never dine out again.