Mind your manners
Mind your manners
When I visit a restaurant it’s usually best to go with family or close friends who know how I feed myself, or I run the risk of them rushing off in embarrassment and horror at the first slurp or dribble that is totally alien to them but has become the norm for me. Yes, I slurp, dribble, and miss my mouth with my fork and spill large quantities of food on my bib come serviette or my shirt front if I miss the bib. I suppose what I really need is one of those plastic bibs with a sort of pocket at the bottom to catch the spilt food for re-use, otherwise I have to order a large portion even though I only manage to get a small portion into my mouth, with the rest falling onto my bib or plate or pants or floor. At home this is not a problem because my two little doggy friends are normally strategically placed in order to catch anything that misses its mark, but in a restaurant it is more difficult. I can virtually see the manager, waitress and cleaner wince in disgust and anger as they see each falling piece added to the general mess on and around me. Then smile pleasantly if our eyes should meet.
I have reverted back to a form of second childhood because of my disability and so when I arrive in my pushchair (wheelchair) and my pusher and spoon (special bent spoon and fork) are taken out of my bag the fun begins. I tuck as big a serviette under my chin as I can find and prepare for the onslaught on my food.
On top of having a form of muscular dystrophy I have a swallowing problem and therefore have to eat foods which are well lubricated with gravy or sauce, so understandably spaghetti bolognaise is one of my slurpiest and messiest favourites. I have a few types of food that I can manage a bit better than others, but generally the softer foods with lots of sauce go down the best. That is down my throat but also includes my front unfortunately.
So, once seated I can scan the menu for something that looks or sounds nice and will also meet the sauce, soft preconditions. The order is placed and I scan the immediate surrounds for starers. If I suspect anyone of having this problem I sit and look forward, then suddenly look in their direction. If they hastily look away and pretend they weren’t looking in the first place they go into the “shock and awe” category. If they smile and nod a greeting they go into the “should be able to handle it” group. If there are any children of talking age they usually go into the “mommy, why’s that man messing and not getting a smack” category. Then finally there is the “jaw drop and open mouthed stare” mostly teenager group. For those I have an extra special long slurp that should make them fidget uncontrollably as I try to see if I can at least get a “GROSS” out of them.
After all these years of trying to get used to the stares and the training to ignore them I still find myself feeling self conscious and sometimes embarrassed. I really try to be good because my children get embarrassed and have threatened to sit at another table if I pull a tongue at the offender, I try to be my usual lovable self and smile tolerantly.
Eventually the food arrives and we all dive in but I have to wait until one of my family has cut up my food before I can start the slurping, messing process.
I have been described as sounding like a vacuum cleaner pipe but coming from my son I know that there is gross exaggeration involved. He forgets who has paid for his education and fed him for the whole of his cheeky life, but I just add it to the black book of debts to be repaid and carry on with my meal. Little does he know that I have rigged the lights and power to switch off when he’s right in the middle of his online war game. But payback is payback.
After I have shlurped my way through my meal and wiped my face and beard with wads of paper serviettes and my wife has cleaned me up with a couple of wet wipes I am ready to attack my coffee. The starers by this time have managed to close their mouths and turn their heads away and frantic mothers are telling their children to “Shhhhhhhhhh he can hear you”. The mundane task of drinking my coffee through my own home made drinking straw pales into insignificance after the spaghetti shlurp. Nothing can top that. Except maybe ice cream with hard crunchy chocolate topping. Trying to get the melting ice cream and the crunchy chocolate into my mouth without messing is a work of abstract art. I normally end up looking like a baby that has tried to eat its way through a chocolate bar and succeeded only in smearing it all over its face.
After the meal is over we can sit and chat like normal people even though I still get lots of Ahh! Shame, looks. Thick skinned, joking or not, the stares still get to me and I have to force myself to go out with my family to enjoy a simple meal. Actually I prefer to just buy takeout.
It is a fact of life that I will have to battle with it for the rest of my life, but I don’t think I will ever get used to it. Seeing someone or something that is not the norm is interesting and will always draw attention. I am sure I do the same without actually being conscious that I am doing it.
(ArticlesBase SC #1518032)
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