Lunch

Amy talked Joel and me into going to the Indian buffet at the Clay Pit. It is very good and semi-cheap. It's really the only good place to eat within walking distance of our office, unless you really like indifferently prepared subs or bland, soggy cafeteria food. So we're at Clay Pit eating our very delicious lunch when a girl walks by wearing a short skirt, flip flops, and a crocheted bikini top. She's also about six months pregnant. Amy and I exchange what-the-fuck looks and wrinkle our noses. Ew. Then we whisper cattily about how tacky that is. But then we feel slightly guilty and start to wonder if she's really hurting anyone, and of course she isn't. We wonder if what's really bothering us is her pregnancy, but we decide that's not it. We wonder if we're appalled simply by virtue of her wearing a bikini top in the restaurant or because she's violating social mores by wearing a bikini top in the restaurant. I was stuck on this point for a while, but after much examination and soul-searching we decided (my dim views on crocheted bikini tops notwithstanding) that it's just plain trashy to wear a bikini top in a nice restaurant. I don't want to see most of someone's torso as I'm trying to cram a big forkful of vegetable korma in my mouth. Plus every time this woman walks back to the buffet she's got her shoulders thrown back and is sort of glancing around to see who notices her big exposed belly and how free and unfettered she is, which is just so incredibly obnoxious. After that, I felt free to make snide comments every time she walked by, talk about what a show-off ho she is on the walk back to the office, and now to write a bitchy unfocused blog entry about her.