Why Do We Care?

Recently, I received a coupon in the mail for a free cupcake from Barnes and Noble and while I was there Saturday night, I decided to claim my prize. I wasn't sure if our B&N had cupcakes, but since they didn't have anything else I wanted to buy (I'm in a complete buying funk-- now that I have some money to spend, I can't find anything I like), so I decided to get a double fudge chocolate cupcake.

I placed my order and waited for the (barista? I'm not sure about the spelling or the masculine form, if there is one) waiter to fill the order. While I waited, several young men came up behind me and began to comment on the dessert selection. One mentioned the size of the cookies, and I have to agree, they're like hubcaps. Another guy then responded by saying, "What do you expect in the land of the obese?" whatever that means. America? The South? Savannah? I wrote him off as a jerk and waited patiently for my cupcake and then the guy behind the counter presented me with my decadent, fat laden double fudge chocolate cupcake. And he was really loud, more as if he was proud to present me with such a lovely dessert.

I wasn't angry with him-- he was being awfully polite-- but I still shrunk back in horror as if he had just announced over the loud speaker at the grocery store that he needed a price check on feminine hygiene products. But why do I care? I think it was Kirsten's post from earlier on that made me think how silly it is for me to worry about what others think. I don't owe these people any explanation and if I want to eat a dozen double fudge chocolate cupcakes then that's my right. If I were a different person, I would have said something to them, or better yet, whack one of them in the head for being so stupid, but I'm not. If you're wondering, by the way, it was a pretty tasty cupcake. But I couldn't enjoy it as much because I upset myself with needless worry. Why do we do this?