A stranger fat-shamed me while I was grocery shopping. It taught me a valuable lesson about how I'm perceived.

• I'm a plus-sized woman who moved from the Midwest to Southern California.
• I was lovingly accepted until a stranger made a derogatory remark in the grocery store.
• I was shocked, and it caused me to reconsider my thinking about my body.

The man who fat-shamed me at a grocery store in Irvine, California, bounced into the store, wearing his too-short shorts and a tank top that revealed his contoured abs. At a glance, he appeared as the epitome of a California stereotype: a health nut and yoga enthusiast, perfectly poised, with his nose a little too high in the air.

I don't fit in that stereotype. I am a plus-sized woman who spent the majority of my life in the Midwest. When I moved to California to start my life over as an adult, I was shocked by the options for Botox and contouring surgeries, the focus on organic foods, and the attentiveness toward fitness.

And yet, no person I met in California has ever treated me as less than or looked down upon me — at least not until this man showed his face in the grocery store.

I was shocked when the stranger called out my weight

I remember lighting up when I saw this man and greeting him with a huge smile. Honestly, he looked like some of the men I've dated — men who were delighted with my plus-sized body, many of whom declared a preference for someone shaped like me.

I'm not sure what I was expecting when I greeted him. But I wasn't expecting him to say, "You don't need those," as I walked by holding my only grocery item — a package of bakery cookies.

It took me a minute to register what he said because I was so shocked. When the message registered, I looked back in horror — only to find him cocking his neck, intently staring back at me with a huge smirk. His piercing glance declared pride in having disseminated such a judgment.

I held it together long enough to walk across the parking lot to my car — a distance I purposely kept to get extra steps in. I asked a stranger to take a photo of me because I wanted to remember the moment when I became fearful, when I no longer felt safe to walk around as myself, and when California's humanity showed its face as the mean and vile place many people expect.

It was October 9th, 2020, at 3:28 p.m. — precisely three years, three months, and three days after I moved to California.

I struggled to move past the interaction

I frequently wondered how I'd gotten so lucky to arrive in a new state where most people look, live, and move differently than I do, yet I've been so lovingly accepted. I've met many strangers from varying backgrounds and walks of life who've become best friends. One such person told me that LA is "the heart chakra of the US," and I banked on acceptance being an energetic thing. Many people here are accustomed to noticing energy. Most of the time, I'm loving, open, free, and fun. People can feel that and want to connect with me to soak it in.

So, my immediate response was to blame this man for only seeing my size and making judgments about my purchase. Random questions rushed through my mind. Did he not see that I'm a person just like him? Does he not even have feelings? What story did he make up about the cookies? Did he expect me to binge eat and wash them down with dairy milk or a Diet Coke? For the record, I do not drink either.

How did he know the cookies were not a gift or a treat I was taking to an event? The real story is that I went in to buy one cookie, but they only had giant, oversized cookies. Having just come from an important medical appointment and suffering from massive stress, I agonized over my purchase. So, instead of buying one cookie with a tempting, too-large portion, I bought a package with smaller cookies to eat one and freeze the rest.

It was an eye-opening encounter

For nearly four years since that interaction, I've pondered what was different about that day and why my interaction with him was so unlike every other interaction I've had in California. As hard as it is to admit, the answer is simple.

He read my energy, and he didn't tell me anything I hadn't already told myself.

For weeks, I'd been stuck in a cycle of beating myself up for not being perfect. And you better believe I said those exact dreaded words, "You don't need those," to myself while shopping for cookies. On that particular day, after feeling extremely stressed from the effects of living alone during a pandemic and arguably one of the most intensive times in history, I wasn't the same woman who arrived in California full of vim, vigor, and abundant life.

Instead, my energy was laced with fears and worries about not fitting into the mold of what I was "supposed to" look like. Rather than owning my power and settling into the good energy and sharing the heartfelt beauty I carry, I was projecting an energy of feeling and looking "less than," and he clearly could tell.

Thank you, Sir Fat Shamer, for showing me how vile and ugly the mirror can be when it's not grounded in love, compassion, and, at the very least, curiosity.