The Ladies who Lunch

The Ladies who Lunch
You've seen them, every lunch time in restaurants across the country. Sipping White Wine and Vodka Martinis while the peruse the menu and harass the waiters.
Now you may be wondering what brings these paragons of polite society together on such a regular basis and in such public contentment. My first thought was camaraderie! We or is it the Scottish wee girls getting together to share thoughts, ideas philosophies or anecdotes on children, grandchildren, long suffering husbands or world peace. Perhaps the opportunity to get out of the house of office, to show off a new outfit and escape the mundane world of the wife and mother. How about networking. No my dears it FOOD!. Edge a little closer and eavesdrop and you will discover that the ladies who lunch talk about food.
First the current diet, then the impossible task of making a menu selection. Impossible? I hear you ask. Yes impossible, there are so many factors to consider. Is this to be the main meal of the day, if so it had better be substantial. If not you could just push a cherry tomato around your plate and look both smug and virtuous, raising an eyebrow when anybody orders anything not, Hi fibre, Low GI, F-plan, South beach, Beverly Hills and if you are old enough not Scarsdale. Because you see my dears its a food competition: who can eat the least with maximum taste, minimum fat/carbs, kilojoules or calories and still fit into that seductive little number 2 sizes too small hanging at the back of the closet just waiting to come out. Then there is the issue of who is watching, because, as all serious dieters know, food eaten unobserved has no calorific value what so ever. It would be really frightful to be seen to eat too much or, for that matter, too little – this might inspire gossip in beauty parlours about anorexia. To be anorexic is not all that awful but to be suspected and talked about behind, ones very thin back, is totally unacceptable.
Having made the all important menu decision it is time to order and God help the waiter!
“I'll have the spinach and feta quiche with salad on the side.......... oh is it Goats cheese feta?” the waiter vanishes into the kitchen and returns with the good news that the feta is indeed the fruit of the Goat and that “......Madam can eat it with impunity.” Now it's time to move onto the pastry..... is it Gluten free, are the eggs free range and so on and on and on. The waiter rushing backwards and forwards from the kitchen, is returning ever more quickly and bravo, all is well and the waiter moves to lady no 2 who wants salad but without lettuce. She loves salad but loathes lettuce....... a special salad is arranged.
By the time the whole table has placed its orders the young waiter has aged visibly and the air in the kitchen is cobalt blue....... and that was only the first course. More wine and Vodka Martinis have loosened the inhibitions so madam with the dairy allergy is now ready to order desert and settles for cheese cake and cream with “....... a tiny dollop of that delicious ice cram on the side.”
By the time the dessert orders have been placed the waiter is rather relieved to note that nobody cares any longer what slips past their lips and onto their waistlines. - he has probably been sharing a few Vodka Martinis with the chef.
Desert and coffee are served with the alacrity of somebody hoping for a large tip. Which if he has cute buns he will certainly get!