Paging Albo and Heffernan…
LAURIE: I recently spent the morning at the International Restaurant & Foodservice Show at the Javits Center. It gave me a legitimate excuse to not commute to my office in deepest New Jersey, and secretly I thought I might find some wedding-planning inspiration. Not so much, although I did eat a tasty Broasted chicken wing and spoke for several entertaining moments with the guys manning a grease trap display.
The dark, splattery side of the restaurant biz.
I met up with a friend and fellow food writer before the show opened, and as we sat drinking our coffee, I tentatively started talking about wedding dress shopping.
“I guess my big issue is that I don’t like feeling compelled to lose weight for an event. Like, if I weren’t engaged, I wouldn’t be putting this pressure on myself,” I said.
My friend, a real no-nonsense type, said, “So you need to either decide to lose some weight , or just decide that you’re happy with your size…”
“And shut the fuck up about it?” I said.
“Yes. And anyway,” she added, “If I saw you in the airport and didn’t know you, I wouldn’t think, oh God, please don’t let her have the seat next to mine. It’s not like you have to be lifted out of buildings with a crane or anything.”