One time my family went out to the local diner down the street. We went in, sat down, and we're beginning to start our scanning through the menu for what we wanted. After a few minutes, the waitress strutted over, introduced herself, and asked us each what we wanted hovering her pen over her notepad. We ordered one at a time, around the table, until it came to my older brother at the end of the line. Placing his finger on the Chicken Parmigiana Entree for $14.99, he requested to have spaghetti instead of the suggested linguini. The waitress nodded with a smile, leaving the rest of us to stare at her pretty face. She started to scratch something else on her notepad, but paused as our eyes dropped down to her frozen hand, clutching the pen with her long, plastic nails. Her eyes shifted over to my parents. "The kids' Chicken Parmigiana?" She asked. My older brother's expression flickered from horror to confusion, waiting for the waitress to laugh. When my parents neglected a response, she continued further, pointing at the menu that lay flat in front of my brother, "The kids' is the same as the adults' entree, there's really no difference." Realizing the oppurtunity for a no-brainer discount, my father quickly raised his eyebrows and rocked his head up and down in approval, followed by my mother's sincere "Oh that's nice, thank you". The waitress smiled at my parents as her hand returned to the notepad, but before her eyes followed, she saw my brother's worried expression. He didn't understand. Her smile turned a little nervous, "It's the same size, really." She smiled wider and motioned her hands the size of a dinner plate. My mother then looked to my brother, "It's okay, she's not questioning your manliness." I cringed at that assumptious joke thrown out by my own mother. My brother was frozen without words. There was nothing he could say to make it better without anyone thinking he was trying to show that he was a man that needed to eat a man's meal. The waitress smiled once again at my parents, and flipped her black, leather pad shut. She rushed out of sight, leaving my brother staring at the table in embarassment. My mother then targeted him and looked at my sister, my father, and I with a smirk. "He just didn't want to look weak in front of the waitress." The rest of us laughed in unison, hoping for our patronized little man to do the same.