Hi friends. Just letting you know your can comment now.

So let me know your thoughts.

Your opinions.

Your ideas.

Thanks!!!

Tonight around 7:30 a woman comes in.

She doesn’t have a reservation.

But.

She is a regular.

I happen to be at the host stand when she comes in.

We get her seats after giving a hard time about not calling for a reservation.

Her husband joins her.

Fun fact.

I love this couple. For a million reasons, most of which is because I have a huge crush on her husband.

He’s so handsome. Think 60 year old Anderson Cooper.

She’s equally attractive.

Both older than me.

But who cares.

But.

Tonight we are chatting and I mention my partner.

I’m about to continue and HE stops me.

He asks me my partner’s name.

I say Adam.

And he’s says: so now we know his name. Stop referring to him as “my partner” and start referring to him as Adam.

And I fell in love with both of them even more!

Introducing.

My partner:

Adam.

In case some of you hadn’t noticed, I haven’t posted much this week.

Well.

Here’s the backstory.

Last Sunday, a friend, a regular came into the restaurant.

And as she approached the host stand she shared with me that someone had shared my blog with a person, that it turns out felt that a post was about her.

It was not.

But she felt attacked.

And for the life of me I can’t imagine why she felt it was about her.

The post was from 8 weeks ago.

It was random.

It didn’t mention a name. A restaurant. A server. Anything to identify the person.

Except the behavior.

And the behavior was outside of our norm.

And.

So I took a few days to look at the posts. The intent. The information.

And the truth is, I’m vague on purpose. I don’t want to offend anyone. I just share my experiences.

So.

If we shadows have offended,
Think but this, and all is mended,
That you have but slumbered here
While these visions did appear.
And this weak and idle theme,
No more yielding but a dream,
Gentles, do not reprehend:
If you pardon, we will mend:
And, as I am an honest Puck,
If we have unearned luck
Now to ‘scape the serpent’s tongue,
We will make amends ere long;
Else the Puck a liar call;
So, good night unto you all.
Give me your hands, if we be friends,
And Robin shall restore amends.

I’m a big guy.

Very big.

Ohhh, that it were all muscle, but alas that ship has sailed.

I’ve struggled with my weight since puberty. I was a skinny little thing till around 7th grade. I remember my first pair of husky pants from K-mart. It was not a fun day.

Since then it’s been a battle. Up. Down. Up. Down.

When I hit 35 I lost the weight, started running, and was for the first time ever below 190. I hovered around 185 for almost five years.

In fact, unbeknownst to me, a new group of friends I made after 9/11 referred to me as hot Jeff. There were four of us Jeff’s in our group. Suit and tie Jeff and I still friends. But yes, until I moved to California to go to grad school that was how they referred to me.

Alas.

Three months before I moved my dad died.

Two months before I moved I broke my foot. My running days were over.

Then.

I started grad school.

Them to make matters worse over Xmas break my appendix burst. 8 days in the hospital. Two months before normalcy returned.

When I looked up I’d gained all the weight back. Plus some.

Hot Jeff was fat.

I’ll stop for a second and say I’m not looking for sympathy or compliments. Just observing something I’ve discovered lately.

As a big guy, I’m aware of the space I take up.

I’m extremely uncomfortable at the theater because I withdraw into the smallest being I can be so as not to make my neighbors miserable. Adam buys aisle seats when he can.

I’m alway at the window on an airplane because I can once again curl into a ball and hug the wall.

At the grocery store, at the mall, at a bookstore I’m very aware of my space in the aisle so I say excuse me a lot.

Actually. I say sorry.

I apologize for taking up space.

And I realized about a week ago I spend a lot of time at work apologizing for taking up space.

Sorry for being in your way.

At the wait station.

At the host stand.

Behind the bar.

Making coffee.

I say sorry about ten thousand times a night.

Thing is, I’m not the only person who takes up space at work. And I’m not referring to weight.

Everyone has a job to do. Everyone has a reason for being where they are.

So why, do I feel like I’m not allowed to take up space. It’s a psychological response to being big.

So I’m saying all of this out loud to own the fact that I’m allowed to take up space. I’m allowed to be where I am. I’m allowed to own my presence.

I’m allowed to stop apologizing for being a big guy.

That is all.