‘Do you need help with your plate?’

I have a love-hate relationship with buffets.

Yes, as a self-described picky eater, I love all the options a buffet provides compared to a predetermined plated meal. I don’t think I’ve ever come across a buffet where I couldn’t find at least one item I would eat. I’m always thankful for the make-your-own-salad and rolls.

But for the past seven years, buffets have been difficult for me to navigate. Think about everything you grab in a buffet line — silverware, napkin, salad bowl, plate, dessert, etc. — while scooping food at the same time. Now imagine doing that with one hand. Not so easy is it?

Some buffets are better than others, like when there’s room to put my plate down on the table while I use my hand to take a serving. In lines where that’s not an option, I awkwardly pin the plate against my body with my left arm. But this really only works if it’s a glass plate, and even then I run the risk of getting food on my clothes if anything creeps toward the edges. Anything plastic or paper isn’t strong enough for this trick. If it’s paper or plastic, I’m basically forced to find a place to set my plate down while I pile food on it.

I always think ahead and leave my drink behind — it’s just one more thing to hold onto, and it’s not needed with me in line. Sometimes I’ll come back and grab my eating utensils after I set my plate down to avoid juggling a fork, knife and spoon with my plate.

I have managed to fill a salad bowl and separate plate, but it usually involves carefully moving the bowl around my plate as it continues to fill up and eventually sitting it on top of the other food as I walk back to my seat.

Most recently, I ditched getting a dessert because I couldn’t handle carrying that dish along with my plate. And I love dessert.

In seven years, I’ve been through more buffet lines — from causal backyard cookouts to formal dining — than I can count. People I know well usually don’t bother to ask if I need help because they know about the aforementioned tricks. But, often, I’m asked if I need assistance.

Whoever it may be — a friend, colleague or catering staff member — means well, I’m sure. But it actually drives me crazy. To me, it says, “You look like you’re struggling. Let me help you.” Don’t get me wrong, buffets can be a pain sometimes, but I’m not struggling. I know I could return and grab a dessert later, or just start with my salad bowl and then fill my plate with the main dish and sides later. I don’t because I know I can find a way to act like everyone else shuffling through the line, or at least I think I’m acting that way. When I’m asked if I need help, it makes me feel like I stand out.

That example when I skipped dessert actually wasn’t because I didn’t want to return to grab a piece of cheesecake. I stayed at my table with only my dinner plate because a woman working for the catering company approached me near the end of the line and asked, “Do you need help with your plate?”

I’m sure she meant well, but it made me feel so awkward that I didn’t want to try to add a dessert plate to my carrying capacity, and I certainly didn’t want to return only for her to see me again and think, “I knew she needed help.”

Would it be easier for someone to hold my plate while I went through the buffet line? Absolutely. (At my sister’s wedding, the staff did this for everyone in the wedding party, and it was wonderful.)

But life isn’t easy. Someone isn’t always going to be there to carry my plate, and I will not let myself ever get to used to a lifestyle where I’m expecting that help. Before I even left the hospital after my accident and my mom was helping me clean up and get dressed, I realized I needed to figure out how to do things on my own, at all times. My mom wasn’t coming back to college with me. She wasn’t going to be there to wash my hair. I had to adjust, so I did.

Navigating buffets is just another thing I knew I needed to learn. While I appreciate the offers to help, I’ll continue to turn them down and awkwardly find my way through the line.