Nah yeah: Proudly proclaiming to the world that I a confident in my dining choices after ordering two main meals, and entrée and a rice dish for dinner. I could have easily passed off my order as dinner for two and therefore projected myself as someone who is responsible about portion sizes with some degree of social life, but I decided against it it. I could have skulked into the Thai joint disguising my identity and making myself as unnoticeable as possible, but I had a pint to make.

I swanned into the restaurant, made eye contact AND conversation with the cashier (I told her I liked her hair, because reinforcing gender stereotypes is how girls bond, ok?) and boldly grabbed a pair of chopsticks. Not two. Not a handful. But a single pair of chopsticks with the gusto of Sasha fucking Fierce wearing a golden jumpsuit flanked with tigers on platinum leashes.

I was not going to hide that the slightly irrational volume of food I had ordered was purely intended for the mouth and intestinal tract of Number One (me). 

I would not be shamed by my overzealous order of my state of solitude. 

I was a woman warrior, feeding my hunger for glory with coconut rice, panang and a fuckload of satay sticks without regard for social stigmas. 

I AM CONFIDENT IN SUNSHINE, I AM CONFIDENT IN RAIN.

I am confident in ME.

Yeah nah: Being so full of Thai food I could no longer sit upright.