The Point at Which My Former Fat Self Takes Over

"Welcome to Penn Station, can I help you?"

Instantaneously, I smiled. "Yes, I'd like a small Italian no tomato and a small fry."
Absolute heaven.

"And you, sir?" she asked Tad.

"A medium club, no tomato."

"Any fries with that?"

"Nope."

What? No fries? This could only mean one thing.

"Why didn't you order any fries?" I asked as we made our way to the register, my voice sharp.

"I'll just have some of yours," he said.

My absolute heaven disappeared. My former fat self took over.

"Some of mine?" I snapped.

"Yeah, just a little bit."

"I specifically ordered a small sandwich so that I could have the entire order of fries to myself," I said through clenched teeth.

"I'm only going to have a little bit, really. I don't want that many."

"But a little bit always turns into half." My tone was accusatory, my intent was to hurt. There was no way I was sharing my fries. MY fries. MY FRIES.

"No, not this time," he tried. "I only want a few."

But I was unreasonable. "A few? Like how many?"

"Just a few."

"How many?"

"I don't know. . . like five."

"Five?"

"Yeah. Five."

I thought about it, my inner fat beast subsiding.

"Okay, then."

And I acutely watched as he selected five fries out of my basket.