The Doomed Carrots

So I have a question: Why does refusing a piece of cake make one anorexic? I must admit that the occasion is rare when I refuse much of anything (case in point my brother’s leftover turkey and mayonnaise sandwich that was left un-refrigerated for two days). However, I do draw the line at a gummy, frost-bitten ice-cream cake…

A little background information first. I currently work at an electronic company headquarters, where I pretend to do work while actually catching up on David Lebovitz. Pim, and the Food Whore. For the past three weeks, a myriad of holiday candy, cookies, and other assorted treats have been set out on the random office table in front of my cubicles, mostly from the vendors we buy from. Now, at first when these began appearing, I couldn’t help but grab a handful of Russel Stover chocolates or Stop ‘N Shop cookies, but after a few days, you begin to understand that chocolate should not make your mouth greasy or leaves a charming white, gooey streak across your tongue (a reaction from the chocolate not being tempered properly).

Anyway, my crazed coworkers immediately discovered after day 3 that I wasn’t taking anything from the growing pile. I’m not quite sure why, but at that moment I became the topic of office gossip and speculation. Perhaps it’s due to the fact that I’m the youngest person working for the company by a long shot or because I am rather on the small side. In any case, speculation grew that I was anorexic. Many “coincidentally” passed my cubicle during lunch (my four wall prison is conveniently located by the entrance/exist) and made some sort of snide remark about my propensity to eat a large fruit salad or my reappearing celery sticks. Needless to say, that the guy sitting next to me didn’t receive such comments about his salad, but then again he did have a giant cookie next to his salad bowl. So, I played along; I meekly smiled and before my lunch hour began, I thought of cute little remarks to make so the indirect accusation was not met with a only a toothy smile covered with stuck blackberry seeds.

And still the gossip ensued. PEOPLE! If YOU’RE WHISPERING, IT STILL MEANS I CAN HEAR YOU, ESPEICALLY WHEN YOU’RE STANDING RIGHT OUTSIDE MY CUBICLE!

But I clinched the deal when I made a fatal mistake yesterday. Every month the office throws a communal birthday party and always scraps enough money together to buy an icecream cake. Because I’m familiar with this tradition from my stint over the summer, I didn’t really become excited when 3:00 rolled around and screams of “Cake!” echoed through the office, not to mention the fact that I really wasn’t hungry (a large turkey sandwich, yogurt, apple, clementine, and chocolate kiss really does fill you up) . I did feel like chewing on something though, and handily pulled out my leftover bag of carrots from lunch. And so I started happily eating away whilst everyone downed a piece of cake, only to complain about its aftereffects later.

So naturally, when everyone returned to their cubicles and passed by mine, they each asked if I had had a piece of cake. Expecting the routine, I replied “Nay, I’m actually not a big sweet person.” So says the girl that only a few hours later ate three butter cookies, a mini fruit tart, and several spoonfuls of Nutella, but I really was happy with my carrots. Well, that sealed it. People leaned in close and asked “Honey, are you ok?” or “You really should eat more besides those carrots for lunch”.

Really, I don’t see what’s so wrong about eating carrots for an afternoon snack. But now my title has been sealed and reluctantly I am known as “The Really Tiny Girl that Doesn’t Eat”. Well, I guess it’s better than the guy two cubicles down from me “The Guy that Smells like Old Beans”, whatever that means.