I know that I will not win any contest that involves coordination and that I shouldn’t wear high heels on cobblestones. I’ve learned that I can’t buy Nutella because I will eat the entire jar with a spoon in 2-days and coincidentally gain 5 lbs. I know that I will not get out of bed early to workout (heck, I won’t get out of bed early to go shopping) and that my earlobes will hurt for at least a day after I wear earrings because I wear them so infrequently. I have come to terms with the fact that I won’t be an Olympic gymnast or ice skater (I’m still holding onto hopes of an Olympic archer or curler though) and that my childhood dream of becoming a princess or a grocery store checkout girl probably won’t happen either.
Therefore, imagine my surprise when I stopped by a Fresh Market grocery store around 6 p.m. looking for a snack to tide me over until after my 7:00 p.m. haircut. (Men probably assume I’d be done around 7:20, but women know it was closer to 9:20…) The store was a good 40 minutes from my house, and had all sorts of nifty specialty products that I’d never seen before. I grabbed a few apples, a bag of trail mix from a big wooden barrel, and a bag of popcorn.
Now I’ve had popcorn before. To be honest, it doesn’t really do much for me. I’m more of a sweet person than a salty person, but kettle corn never really tickled my fancy either. The smell of cheese popcorn always reminded me of my elementary school cafeteria, and since elementary school children seem to throw up at lunch regularly for no particular reason, it wasn’t exactly my favorite smell. I don’t even know why I picked the bag of popcorn up, really, except that maybe it was a wonderful karmic gift from God for paying my taxes and not stamping on anthills.
In all fairness, this wasn’t your average, run-of-the-mill Jiffy Pop. This was a “Chicago” mix of caramel and cheddar popcorn, and it may have been the best thing I’ve ever tasted. Better than Whirled Peace frozen yogurt, better than a Whole Foods whoopie pie, better than Cadbury eggs. The good news is, my Nutella addiction of 2002 did teach me something and I was able to put the bag away before eating my body weight in cheese and sugar. The bad news is, I feel like I have awakened a popcorn-loving beast inside of me who will never be quiet again.
Of course, this led me to wonder what other things I might love that I haven’t given a fair chance. Sumo Wrestling? Cat Fancy magazine? Nascar? Bungee Jumping? Bird watching? Vampire movies? Courtney from The Bachelor? I might just have to find out. (After I fly to Chicago and seek employment in a popcorn factory where I can “I Love Lucy” popcorn off of the conveyor belt.)