Torture at the movie theaterI’m not a huge movie fan.  I realize this creates a bit of a problem, as I’m married to a movie critic.  However, the way I see it is that it creates a problem for him, not me.  He’s the one who has to go to movies alone and look like a creeper.

It’s especially awkward (and hilarious) when he has to go to the morning screenings of animated movies by himself.  He looks like a pedophile.

I’ve often considered going separately and then running in right before the movie starts, pointing at him and yelling “You creep!  You shouldn’t be this close to children!” and then running out.

I have refrained from executing this plan simply because it involves running.

The only thing that entices me to see a movie when it’s not starring Jake Gyllenhaal or Ryan Gosling, is the popcorn.  It’s amazing.  I have no doubt it is approximately 10,000 calories for the bucket of popcorn I purchase, but it’s money well spent to me.

Yes, I purchase a bucket.  Actually, if they would let me bring in my own ten gallon bucket with a handle, I would fill that up with popcorn and liquid butter flavoring and be a happy girl.  But instead, they call the container they use a “bucket,” despite the lack of a handle.

In addition to insulting my intelligence by calling a cardboard container a “bucket,” they charge me $15.00 for the equivalent of two Spart Pop bags of popcorn.  (The clogged arteries are provided free of charge.)  You would think that if you’re paying the price of a steak dinner for popcorn, you’d get more than that.

*I’m referring to the steak dinner special at the Old Country Buffet.  Don’t knock it until you try it.  Tell ’em Lisa sent you.*

What’s most disturbing about all of this is that I gladly pay the ransom they charge because I want them to fork over the popcorn goodness.  Why go to the movie otherwise?

Last week my husband had a screening of a movie that looked like something I would actually enjoy (despite the lack of shirtless men and/or puppies.  Come to think of it, shirtless men holding puppies would be perfection).  Since he’s a movie critic, he gets to see the movies for free before they come out, and he gets to bring one person with him.  (Ladies, don’t be jealous.)  I was the lucky “plus one” for the night.  He gave his guy friends the night off.  (Seriously.  That’s usually who goes with him.)

I recently started a new diet that’s pretty intense.  And when I say “intense,” I mean it’s horrible.  I’m hungry and the diet doesn’t allow me to eat pasta, fast food or pizza.  It’s pretty much a torture diet.  Nonetheless, I started it and didn’t want a jaunt to the movies to throw me off track.  I greatly underestimated the difficulty of the task.

I arrived at the movie and the wonderful aroma of popcorn jumped out and greeted me with an “f-you.”  (Who knew it was so ill-mannered?)  I squirmed but told myself  to stay strong and walk away from the concession counter.  We passed the line of all the people trying to get into the screening.  I felt like such a VIP.

We found our seats in the theater.  Immediately upon sitting down I asked my husband to get me a Diet Coke.  Okay, I demanded it.  When asked how big I wanted it to be I responded “I would like a bucket if possible.”  I wasn’t screwing around and I couldn’t be tempted to go get it myself at the concession stand.  (I was also lazy…hence, the fatness.)

He returned just as the movie started and we settled in to watch.  Then I heard a scuffle and looked over to find two women shuffling in as the movie was starting.  They were obviously people from the general public who didn’t know how to behave at a VIP screening.

They sat down right next to me, despite the one empty seat they could have used as a buffer.  I gave them a dirty look and went back to french kissing my Diet Coke.

As if the invasion of my personal space wasn’t bad enough, the woman next to me pulled out an entire bag of popcorn.  It was in a Ziploc bag and it smelled like Christmas (only without the drunk uncles and liquor induced vomit).  I wanted to punch her for having popcorn so close to me and considered telling her I was on a diet and didn’t appreciate her behavior.

Considering she could barely contain herself in the theater seat, I was pretty sure she didn’t have a concept as to what a diet entailed and wouldn’t be compelled to stop eating.

As the movie went on, she stuffed her face with the bag o popcorn she brought from home…to a free movie.  She wasn’t even subtle or dainty about it.  She shoveled large handfuls into her mouth, losing several kernels as casualties in the process.

How dare she let such a commodity go to waste! I thought about picking them up off the ground and eating them, but since my shoes were stuck to the sticky floor, I figured the popcorn was stuck there permanently too.

She eventually finished the entire bag o popcorn and slipped into a carb-induced coma, which somehow required her to breathe heavily.  Whatever.  At least she wasn’t tempting me with popcorn anymore.

At the end of the movie, my husband expertly escorted me out of the theater and away from a possible altercation with the woman with the popcorn.  He told me to stay focused and led me out of the theater without any further exposure to food.  I maintained a death grip on my Diet Coke.

When we got home I congratulated myself on my restraint at the theater, which was both the restraint from food and the restraint from assaulting the woman sitting next to me.  Maybe this diet thing wasn’t that bad after all.  I celebrated with macaroons.

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