Large
The second reason I'm pleased to be sitting in an upscale Manhattan diner is that the waiter with the athletic frame who's looking down at me looks almost identical to Zac Efron. The first reason is the bacon cheeseburger, medium rare, waffle fries, salad with ranch dressing, and Dr. Pepper that he's going to bring me.
"Molly..." my dad shoots at me, as he's adding up the calories and dangerously high grams of fat in his head. I look up to see my mom flash him a give her a break look that I'm not supposed to see.
Our waiter nods and starts writing everything down on a small pad. And a date with you, I was tempted to add as I bat my eyelashes.
"For me, steamed vegetables," my dad says, almost smugly. "With a green salad, dressing on the side, and a water." My mom nods calmly, pretending his choice is fine with her too, although I'm sure that she'd rather dive in and say, "Sounds good. I'll have the same" after I order. The waiter has already turned away when my dad calls after him.
"And no bread for the table," he adds. The waiter gives him a thumbs up to show that he's heard. My dad turns to me, "Molly, I really think you're making the wrong choices. You'd be so pretty if you weren't so large."
"What do you mean by large?" I say, feeling heat rise to my cheeks.
"You know...you're getting fat."
For a second, I'm not sure it has actually happened. I go numb. My eyes are wide and I make several attempts to speak, but no words come out of my twitching lips. I shake my head, looking from my mom to my dad, back and forth, my mouth wide open. Finally my vision clears from the cloud of disbelief, and all I see is my dad's straight face. I take a deep breath, and smile. "You'd be a really great father if you weren't such a nosy asshole." I slide out of the sticky booth and head over to the dessert case.
"Molly, hear me out. I really didn't mean it like that," he says, walking up behind me.
What other way could he possibly have meant it? It wasn't that I thought "fat" was an insult. It was just an adjective, like any other. No, it was the way he said it that made it offensive. The compliment that came with the insult--the hug before the punch. It was hard to take in the fact that fatness had become the last socially acceptable form of discrimination in America. Like anyone could just say anything to me, because I shouldn't even exist while being fat.
"Molly, you know what you look like," my dad said, "because you're pretty."
"If I wasn't so large," I add. "There, I fixed that for you."
"Okay, so maybe that didn't come out the way I meant it."
"I'm pretty sure it did." I turn away and move towards the front door of the restaurant.
From the corner of my eye I can see my dad trailing after me. "Can we start this meal over? I'm really sorry, I'm Dave," my dad says putting out his hand.
I try to contain my straight face but let out a small giggle, and turn to look at him. He seems sincere. I've definitely done my own share of tripping over my tongue, and I guess the least I can do is agree.
"I'm Molly," I say smiling, shaking my dad's hand. "Let's eat."
Hi Molly!
Wow! That was really well written.
However, it would be helpful if you included the prompt, so others can help address if you're answering the topic given or not.
The beginning sentence seems a little rough and sudden, and it can be fixed by switching the first and second reason. The first reason should come first, etc.
Good luck !
