Eating on the Road. It’s a Bitch

I am fortunate to have a really kick ass job. I work in medical device sales, which allows me to work unsupervised, make great money, and reap endless benefits. The down side of this of course is I am always on the road. I don’t have the luxury of packing a lunch and keeping it in a climate controlled office or fridge. It will sit in a lunchbox in my car and for much of the day transition between a Mollie set and approved car climate and whatever the elements feel like making the temperature for that day. Also, I travel often. 

Today, for example, I am writing from Ohio. And while I was very excited to enjoy some Bob Evan’s chicken noodle soup, I have to be careful. The Midwest is build off meat and potatoes and carbs. I unfortunately do not have the genetics to process a billion carbs without gaining two billion pounds instantly. Now I arrived yesterday, and I am proud to report that I have run 2 miles each day, today outside. And I have only consumed coffee and water. 

That being said I’m writing this from Outback Steakhouse. I ordered the salmon (which I will cut in half), asparagus (no butter!) and a house salad (no cheese, no croutons!) with oil and vinegar. Plus a water. So what I am DYING to know is why the fuck the server would bring me a hot basket of bread and butter?!?  

Admittedly, I have no fucking self control. And if I were not updating this blog right now, I would be stuffing that bread into my mouth pausing only to smother it in butter. And this whole situation is maddening because after ordering what I ordered, what person thinks of that girl probably wants to eat an entire baby loaf of bread?!?  

So thank you, for giving me a distraction. And also cross your fingers that she doesn’t spit in my food after I “accidentally” throw this bread on the ground. 


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