Don't touch my menu, suckah!

Sistah T is back with a bang for this post. It's an issue that I feel compelled to write about because it's been bugging me all day. It's also one of the undisputable reasons why no man will have me. I will warn you that this is not for those of you who are faint of heart. But you should already be aware of this - you know Sistah T tells it like it is. :-D

The subject? Men who attempt to order for me.

It's enough to make my blood boil, and it has happened twice in the last two days. Do these guys have a death wish or something??

Today's episode occurred at a pho (Vietnamese noodle) restaurant. I came in, looked over the menu, and asked the waiter for item #17 on the menu. He responded with "#17? I think #23 is better for you."

What??? I just walked in the door for the very first time, and you think you know what's better for me? Oh no you didn't...

Let me put it this way. I am from a family of independent people. You know what you want to eat, order it, and that's it. For my cousins and I, most people stay away from ordering anything for us because of our many food allergies. We know what won't make us break out in hives and have to bust out the EpiPen. And no one wants to take the responsibility for sending any of us to the hospital because they made us eat raw apples and we stopped breathing.

I'll give you a real-life example. Several years ago we were out at dinner at a Chinese restaurant and I wanted to get a bowl of beef noodle soup - non-spicy. The waiter came to take our order, and the male representative at our table (not my dad - he knows better than to try and do this...) ordered our dinner for each of us. My beef noodle soup was ordered by our male representative as a "little spicy". I held my tongue out of "respect" for our male representative. BIG MISTAKE. That bowl of noodles was the spiciest bowl of expletive that I've ever had in my life, and I couldn't get it down. Bowl of soup wasted - and I'll spare you the details of the indigestion I had to go through afterwards. And do you think our male representative gave a fig if what he ordered made me sick?? Screw "respect" - that's the last time anyone EVER orders for me.

It seems like such a small thing, but it's a much bigger issue than you might think. Here's my point, people: you don't necessarily know what is best for others, so quit trying to control them. And guys, I know you want to feel like you're in control, but here's the real deal: dream on if you think you can control the women in your lives.

Girls, this goes for you too - if you allow the men in your life to control you or define you, you are only hurting yourself. It is none of my business if you allow the guys in your life to run your life - if you like having other people make decisions for you, that's your prerogative. However, I'm going to use a phrase that my dad uses all the time: USE YOUR BRAIN. Don't feel like you have to take anyone's line of baloney. If the decision that someone else is making for you doesn't seem right, it probably isn't.

So, note to any man who takes out me on a date after this blog post (which will probably not happen since you're frightened out of your wits to go out with a headstrong, independent, outspoken woman like myself): don't order my dinner for me. I sure as heck am not going to order your dinner, so leave mine alone - unless you want to get smacked. Don't question my judgment as to what I can or want to eat. Otherwise, I'm sticking the hospital bill on YOU.

For the record - would you like to know what menu item #23 was? It was a bunch of raw slices of meat. Yeah - needless to say, that was NOT what was better for me.