To the Skinny Girl at the Grocery Store,

When I choose your checkout line, I expect a certain amount of discretion and respect. When I place my Symphony bar, box of Twinkies, and box of cherry fruit pies on the belt, I would simply like you to ring my purchase up without comment, take my money, and let me go home. When you instead choose to comment, LOUDLY, "WOW! All goodies, huh! Are these ALL FOR TONIGHT?, and I respond in a quiet, INDOOR voice, No, they aren't for me, you have a choice here: You could choose to sense my tone, and just shut UP, or you could instead carry on LOUDLY about how yummy ALL of my treats look and express AGAIN in a knowing voice, that I will, indeed consume them ALL TONIGHT. I wonder, do you really, truly think that I am going to consume TWO entire boxes of Hostess snacks, and a Symphony chocolate bar in one sitting? Do you really, really think this? How fat do I look to you?
I tell you, no they really aren't for me, they are for my Dad. You say SURE THEY ARE and you wink at me. You actually FREAKING WINK at me.
I really do appreciate your chipper, upbeat attitude. That is why I choose your line every time I come in the store. I really do appreciate the fact that you actually attempt eye contact and conversation with your customers, and normally, really, I find you quite delightful. But here's the thing: You're skinny. I'm fat. Therefore, you have absolutely NO call to comment on my purchases, especially if you think that I am probably a binge eater and most likely a bulimic too. I would expect the same confidential discretion if you were ringing up, say, my box of prophylactics and my pregnancy test. I would not expect you to comment loudly and publicly shame me. But, this is what you do... And how do I respond? Instead of just staring you down, and saying with my eyes, Yep, I'm fat. This is what fat people do... This is how it happens. Just stay away from the entire boxes of Little Debbie's and you won't suffer the same fate... You can remain your tidy little size zero, and I will stomp in here late at night in my size 14 and make my secret purchases... No, I'm not this cool! Instead, I get all guilty.... and defensive.
No, really, I say! These are really for my Dad. I mean, the chocolate bar, that's for me (IT'S NOT A KING SIZE!) but the other goodies, those are for him, because he asked me to get them. For him. Tonight. Because he, um, he is going to eat them.
You just keep smiling at me, nodding your head, Mmm-hmmm, SURE they are for your DAD. RIGHT....
Sensing you really don't believe me, (and really, my face is bright red and I am yammering on and on, I can't blame you) I tell you this: He's diabetic. He needs these.
Um, yeah. Saying this out loud, I hear how ridiculous it sounds... But, Skinny Girl, they really are for him. I am telling the truth. I know buying my diabetic dad 2 boxes of Little Debbie's makes me sound really, really sad... but it is the sad truth. And really, we are in a Walmart neighborhood grocery store. Can any of this really phase you? Half the people in here are in their pajamas. At least I am wearing actual clothing. And shoes. Why are my trashy snack foods such a shocking purchase to you, anyways? I mean, surely you have seen more notable combinations come through your line... probably already this evening. Like someone buying some BBQ pork rinds, a $3.88 bottle of "wine," and a Star magazine? Why can't you just let me make my purchases in peace, Skinny Girl? Why all the judgement???
This is why we can never be friends. This is why I will probably never pick your line again...
I love your bubbly personality, Skinny Girl, but you crossed a line tonight. Part of me wanted to park the car, go back inside and tell you, Look!!! but then the part of me that had snarfed down the Symphony bar before I even left the parking lot, the same part of me that had chocolate all over my too-tight shirt, thought, Really, what's the point? You'll never believe me...