I'll Take Mine to Go

So, I’m grabbing a coffee at Juan Pelota (Lance Armstrong’s ironically—and hysterically—monikered coffee shop attached to his bike shop). As you might imagine, much of the clientele is super-fit.

One such woman, easily in her 40’s, but with a bangin’ bod and wind-lifted facial features (okay, maaaaaybe there was a scalpel involved at some point, but why go there?) stepped up to the counter and ordered her latte with skim milk. As she and her friend are waiting for their order, the guy behind the counter approaches and apologizes, “I’m so sorry, but we’re out of skim. If you like, I can steam the whole milk up really frothy, so it’ll take up more room in the cup, but use less milk. That way there’d be fewer calories, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

Now, in my book, this is exceptional customer service. It’s problem-solving, smart-thinking—all the things I wish for in a less-than-ideal situation.

But Missy couldn’t be bothered. The eye-roll of exasperation was accented by a heavy sigh. “No!” she snapped. “That’s okay. Just give me whole milk.”

The guy immediately went about his task of making her whole milk latte. Meanwhile, she turns to her friend and stage whispers, her voice still dripping with exasperation, “It’s not the calories I’m worried about. It’s the fat.” Her implication was clear. What a dumbass the barista was, right?

Um . . . let’s see . . . last time I checked, smaller quantity meant less of EVERYTHING. So, skinnybitch, if the nice young man’s solution had reduced the calorie count of your latte by using LESS whole milk, wouldn’t it necessarily have ALSO reduced the fat count?

Of course, from the looks of your body, the bulk of your fat is between your ears, so maybe this really is too advanced a concept for you. Or maybe you can spend an extra 45 seconds on cardio to make up for the 1 extra gram of fat or whatever. Sha!