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When do women really eat?

Over the years I’ve had my share of endless restaurant dinners with the former Mrs. Frank and the other former Mrs. Frank, and various dates of my youth. Out in public it seems these women never actually eat. They push their food around, pile it up in corners while they talk, try to get me to eat it for them, and every now and then put half a fork-full of peas into their mouths.

I keep thinking that by the time we leave the restaurant they’ll be so malnourished I’ll have to take them out to my car in a wheelchair. They worry me.

As I watch them not eating, two profound thoughts run through my mind: “I must be the world’s biggest pig, chowing down like I just escaped from Osama’s personal torture chamber,” and “How much am I paying for this meal she isn’t eating?”

After a while, we guys try to get used to it. We might suggest a nice soup or salad for their entre, but then we just come across looking cheap, which we are.  But I grew up on the “starving children in China” guilt trip my mother threw at me when I was a kid. I believed her! I still do, despite all that Olympics propaganda about the “New China.” New, like heck, the Chinese are just getting better at hiding those starving kids, probably in the mountains of Tibet somewhere.

I’ve decided that women only eat when they are alone, or when they gather in anonymous packs in dark kitchens solely for the purpose of “pigging out.” I mean, I NEVER see them eating, but some are way past the Orca stage of heaviness — not that I am throwing stones. So there has to be some explanation.

So today I found this photo. My heart lept with joy! — a woman who is willing to dive deep into the greasy ground beef of life, to risk ruining her makeup and looking like a pig, because she has a real appetite, a manly appetite.

I wouldn’t want to take her out to a restaurant or any place in public — I mean, what a pig! Who am I to tear down the walls of female stereotypes? Let Michelle Obama or Sarah Palin eat like that in public — or even Hillary Clinton, for that matter.

Now that’s a glass ceiling worth breaking!

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