It's Not Delivery, It’s Insecurity!

I am incapable of getting ready for anything where I have to look nice, without making a HUGE mess. I had an interview the other day and there were discarded tops and skirts in every room, make-up splattered around the kitchen sink, and my hair dryer was on the bathroom floor. If you had walked into the bedroom that morning, you might have thought Jesus had returned and you had been left behind. I did get the job, and I will be tutoring students in their homes, as well as working with the No Child Left Behind Program in school districts. This is the best news, because if I hadn't gotten a job soon I would have had to start giving up other luxuries like food.
Tonight all the new tutors were sitting at orientation, going over the information about our new job, and our boss was kind enough to order us three Papa John's Pizzas. Papa John's is my favorite, all that thick crust and garlic sauce. I haven't been eating very well on our tight budget, and even though I had managed to muster together enough cash for some Jack in the Box tacos afterwards, I knew that if I had the pizza for dinner, I could eat the tacos tomorrow. That is two days of eating good BACK TO BACK. Nirvana Found.
But something happened that I have observed many times, it is the "I refuse to be the first to eat because that might make me seem like I actually enjoy eating" phenomenon. And although I shouldn’t be, I too am inflicted. I'm chubby, but honestly I'm ok with being chubby (on most days). But no one else in the room was chubby, so I didn't want to go first because I felt that my coworkers would judge that action because I am fat. This all reminded me of a joke by Mo'nique from her Queens of Comedy tour. Mo’nique jokes about a time that she entered a club and some catty girl remarked, "I bet she’s going straight to the buffet." And Mo'nique commented, “It was true, but that bitch didn't have to say that shit!"
So everyone is just sitting there, and you can tell they are thinking about the pizza. The smell is overwhelming, and everyone is wondering if they should really let three whole pizzas go to waste. My stomach is rumbling louder than a trash compactor, because I hadn't eaten hardly anything all day. Finally a guy walks in late and grabs some pizza (guys never care about that kind of stuff). But even after he sat down the girls would still not go for it. Finally realizing I would regret not eating that pizza for the REST OF MY LIFE; I got up and made a beeline for the pizza. You could almost feel the internal sighs of relief. Immediately everyone rushed to the table, and no pizza was left uneaten on my watch.