Got 'thin' shamed by a server. So the wife has agreed to meet some of her hamily for lunch (she's not full-on shitlady yet, but I think I'm getting her there) at a typical place with a bunch of shit on the walls, where all the meals come straight from the freezer to you, via microwave.  You know the kind of place I mean.  Pig slop dining, at its finest. Anyway, I agree to come along because... well, because I suppose I have some morbid fascination about observing filthy zoo animals in their natural habitat. Us and her hamily arrive at the same time, and we get escorted to a table which has booth style chairs on one side, and regular seating on the other.  There's about two feet of clearance between table and booth.  I graciously give up the booth seating to her hamily, because I am 'concerned' that the chairs look a 'little small'.  Watching those two pork orcs slide and flail into the booth seating was akin to watching a pair of walruses do the hustle.  It was glorious. Once this display of pigs on ice is over, our weightress lumbers in, takes the drink order (beetus juice for the hamily, of course; a cup of genmaicha for the wife, and a Chimay Premiere for me), splutters out (literally... I witnessed a few drops of spittle land on the table) the specials (some big patty, bison meat cheeseburger... sounded good, but I decided to spend my calories on the beer), and waddles away to get our refreshments. Our drinks arrive (after about 20 minutes... no shock there), and we order food (well, hamily orders apps... and by apps, I mean mains as the first course).  Wife gets a burger and fries, 'cause I think she really enjoys triggering fatties now and again.  Like I said, I'm working on her.  I order a basa fillet ('cause I'm not gonna hit my protein with that beer... even though it actually has a few grams, teehee) with seasonal veggies. At this point, our weightress gives me the stink eye, and snorts "Are you sure you don't want the burger special? You look like you could use it" (fun fact: I'm 5'10"/155, I lift, and I'm ~15% bf currently... while I'm not a swolebro, I don't look the least bit tiny, or even skinny) ...holyfuckingshit.jpg, are you kidding me? ...did I just get thin shamed? ...I did.  The gears turn in my brain, and then I give her the stink eye, stare at her gunt, and say "Well it looks like you already ate it, so I'll just have what I ordered, thanks." The hamily has looks of horror on their snouts, my wife is trying to hide the grin and giggle (incidentally, The Grin and Giggle would be a great name for an Irish pub), and the weightress huffs out a "fine", and walks away.  The rest of the meal is surprisingly pleasant, and without incident... though still slow and inattentive, when it comes to our pork orc of a server. Finally, when our checks arrive (separate bills, 'cause I'm not about to fund a Kickstarter to pay for the hamily), I pick up mine and my wife's, give a tip of two fifty, and on the tip line, write down "your weight".  My wife chuckled.  I think she's going to be one of us yet!