The kindness of strangers. . .

I was the victim of a random act of kindness last night. Sean and I made our second trip to the grocery store for the week (and yes, it was only Tuesday). As we were perusing the ice cream section, I noticed a woman with a two-year boy in the shopping cart. Actually, it was impossible not to notice them because the child was screaming “I want ice cream! I want ice cream!” and the mother was pretty much ignoring him while she hunkered over the diet ice cream bars struggling to make a decision. “Just pick one because they all suck,” I thought.

Unfortunately, Sean was awaiting his turn at the diet cooler. I, of course, had no trouble picking out my Blue Bell Dos Amigos half-gallon as Blue Bell was thoughtful enough to make the carton for Dos Amigos bright blue when all of the other cartons are beige. I can spot it as soon as I turn down the frozen food aisle, like the mother ship beckoning me home. But, I digress. (If you are unfamiliar with my love of ice cream, you might want to revisit “A Tribute to Ice Cream.”)

So once this woman gets out of Sean’s way, he takes his turn with the diet cooler. As I am examining the other side of the frozen aisle trying to determine if there is anything remotely appetizing, the following exchange occurs between me and the woman with the ice-cream-starved kid:

She catches a glimpse of my belly and begins to laugh. Yes, laugh. I snap my head around ready to either give her a piece of my mind or break into tears (I often cannot tell which reaction is pending.)

But then she says, “Well, you can eat all the ice cream you want.”

“And I get the good stuff,” I reply.

“Just don’t be like me,” she advises. “I ate all the ice cream I wanted, and now two years later, I still can’t get this weight off.”

(Did I mention that she was a little on the heavy side?)

“I hope I don’t have that problem,” I say, with a fleeting feeling that maybe I should put the Dos Amigos back with its other amigos.

And then, the kindest words ever spoken came from her mouth: “Oh, but you don’t have to worry. YOU ARE TINY.”

That’s right TINY. She called me TINY.

My face lit up, and I felt compelled to hug this stranger right there next to the Skinny Cows. I refrained, of course, and simply said “thank you” as I skipped my way to the produce section. All the way home, I reminded Sean that she called me TINY. I am pretty sure he chuckled every time.