Much to The Dietitian's chagrin, I happily consider movie popcorn to be a full-fledged meal.
Movies and popcorn just go together for me. It's supposed to be awful for you, but a small is a perfect size, and it's delicious. I feel relatively guilt free that it's less than 400 calories, considering a small was only 360, per the sign AMC used to have, I never actually devour the whole bag, and I only put a drop of butter on. I always figure that math is close enough.
(And then The Dietitian inevitably sees the food log, makes a gentle comment about "Only popcorn for dinner?" and I shrug her off. She's used to that last part by now.)
This became an issue when I last went to the movies earlier this month. My local and preferred AMC no longer sells small popcorns. I didn't know this until I got to the concession counter and asked for a small popcorn.
Which... Problematic to say the least. This was dinner, and a certain number of calories were budgeted, and now I had no idea what I was dealing with. But I saw on a sign what the medium was, and figured I could eat 2/3 of a bag, and get around the same amount as I'd planned ... and could determine that by eating to a certain mark on the bag. Although I wished that I had a Sharpie to mark it better.
And this was before the movie even started.
So I totally own that by the time Popcorn Chick and her friend walked up to my row and came in, that I was already on edge.
And then they shoved me over the edge.
"Oh! That looks good! Are you going to eat all that by yourself?"
...
Some people don't have the sense of a gnat, and instead decide that thoughts should always be vocalized.
I stammered that no, I was only going to eat part of it. And then I laughed that well, I'd run the half on Sunday, so if I wanted the whole thing, I'd certainly earned it.
And then thought, "Bitch. I could outrun you. And maybe you should use some self control."
Because, in that awful moment, I pulled my own judgment card. If you are twice my size, you especially do not get the right to make comments on my food.
The awful thing? That because Popcorn Chick decided that she had to make a comment on what I was eating, and what her perception was, now I was wondering whether I really needed even that 2/3 of a bag that I thought I could eat.
But, I took comfort in knowing that I'd run my half, and I was half her size, and damnit, it was my popcorn.
And meticulously ate to the line that I'd marked in my head.
Yet, somewhat ironically/horribly/however you have it, left the movie still hungry.
I figured the Saga Of Popcorn Chick was over, until I went to my bathroom, did my thing, and came out to wash my hands. And there was Popcorn Chick and her friend.
I'm not sure if Popcorn Chick really had an issue with me that I just didn't know about, or if she really didn't realize that I was the same person that she'd made the comment to, or if that comment history had since left her brain.
I go to the sinks, and she points and me, and says to her friend that she hadn't been "that flat" since the 1970s, and that she was "so glad that wasn't in style now."
I've never dried off so quickly in my life. I don't see myself as small, and while maybe to her I seemed "flat," that's not my perception. And it certainly would never have occurred to me that a completely stranger would call out my size as anything to comment on, especially when I've not done or said anything to provoke it -- and indeed, hadn't said a word to this woman since laughing off that I ran a half marathon, and could eat the whole bag if I wanted.
But who does does that?!
Popcorn Chick, apparently.
To sum up:
1. Publicly commenting on what an absolute stranger is about to eat? Not OK. (Although if you're a friend or a family member, and you pull the same stunt, I'm likely to give you this rant when it actually happens.)
2. Body shaming a stranger in a bathroom? Also not OK.
And if you're body shaming the stranger whose food you questioned at the start of the movie? Make up your damn mind.
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