The Popcorn Incident

So, I promised I'd post about the Popcorn Incident of 2007, an event in the continuing saga of the not-so-savvy traveler, yours truly. Although it's really not so much an illustration of poor travel choices, but rather a demonstration of how cranky I get when I try to diet. But first a little background...

I began counting Weight Watcher points last week in an effort to finally once and for all get down to my drivers license weight. I had naively thought that running alone would do it, but I had reached a plateau since losing the 20 post-quit-smoking pounds. So B and I decided that if we can quit smoking together, then surely we can lose weight together (especially since we're still living together as roommates, and often eating together), so now we're in this together, which makes it sooo much easier. Especially since I don't go to the meetings, which engenders accountability and support, but can be really annoying. In the (almost) three years that we've lived with each other, I have attempted to diet approximately 12 times, and not to place blame on B, but my efforts have always been easily derailed by the innocent bag of cheese puffs lying on his desk, or the "hey, you wanna make some chili-cheese dip?" Very tough to resist. So imagine my delight (and surprise) when B (after seeing a shirtless picture of himself), decided to make a concerted effort to diet with me.

For those of you unfamiliar with the points system, it's Weight Watcher's proprietary method for calculating daily food limits- it combines calories, fat, and fiber to develop a point value for any given food item. And based on a chart of weight ranges, you are assigned a daily points target (mine is 24). Many have found it's actually more effective than just counting calories.

So we started last Sunday, and my first big test was in Los Angeles. So before departing, I stocked up on 100 calorie snack packs, fruit, instant oatmeal, and mini bags of low fat Kettle Corn popcorn (only 2 points per bag!). The popcorn being the most significant item, in case you haven't figured it out already. So my second night at the ghetto hotel, I got the munchies. And normally, I'd have plugged some change into one of the vending machines (part of the reason I can't seem to lose weight. go figure), but I remembered I'd packed a delicious low point treat: microwave popcorn! But, alas! No microwave in the room. So, I called down to the front desk to see if there were any microwaves in the building, and they told me the restaurant kitchen was the only place with microwaves, so I bopped down to the restaurant (it was after the dinner rush at this point), and asked one of the staff if there was any way they would be kind enough to pop my bag for 1 minute/thirty seconds. "We don't have no microwaves" (Huh?) "But, the front desk...", "We got a microwave in the employee lounge, but it's off limits to guests" (umm, thinking at this point, I'm paying 150.00 a night, and you won't let me use your damn microwave?) "Listen, I'm on a special diet and I'd really appreciate it if you could help me out here", "Well...okay, I get Tony to go up there for you", "Hey Tony!" So, Tony takes my bag (with a look that suggests he'd rather be text-messaging his pals, instead of helping this crazy chic) and nods his head when I say "just a minute and a half is all it takes, and thank you so much!" So, 5 minutes later (do you see where this is going?) he returns, sheepishly, with a bag that looks vaguely like mine, only if it had been torched to a crisp. He apologizes for burning my popcorn, but they will be happy to give me a bag of chips in return. I shake my head no, and take my shriveled, smelly bag out to the lobby and stuff it into the garbage, and trudge back to my room, fighting back tears (I'm telling you, the first week of a diet is hell on my emotions). I call B in a fit of rage and rant about the damn popcorn, and probably scare him a little. After I get off the phone, I dig through my stores, and wait! here's another bag! So, I head out to my rental, drive up to the 7-eleven, and pop my popcorn in their microwave, drive back to the hotel, and eat my damn popcorn. Looking back on it now, I see clearly that I am a crazy person. But dammit! It shouldn't be that hard to pop a damn bag of popcorn!

And yes, from now on I plan on requesting a microwave in my hotel rooms.

*****

And in case you're wondering - in a week I have lost two pounds and B has lost four. So unfair.