The place was a crowded dance studio in New York. The time was far too long past lunch. The crime was uttering two words, usually innocuous on their own, made despicable by the sassiest of question marks.

“No salad?”

Yes, lady, no salad. Looking at my plate and seeing nothing but a big, greasy slab of pizza you have come to the correct conclusion that there is no salad of the visible variety among by meal. I’ll give you the benefit of the doubt for five seconds- perhaps you think that I have somehow missed the giant salad containers and the not one, but two, women doling out portions of leafy green nutrition to the salad-loving masses before me. That overly sweet rise in vocal inflection isn’t the blatant condescension that it appears to be at face value, but a worry- nay, a genuine panic- that I someone suffered from a moment of temporary visual impairment, or perhaps blacked out a little, and am unaware that there is healthy, all natural, sustenance available for me at the other end of the table. Perhaps you see it as your duty to notify this poor, pizza-holding child that there is a better way.

Okay, so that’s over. You’re judging me. You are judging me with every fiber of your vitamin-and-nutrient fortified body for not getting salad and I don’t appreciate it one bit. You see, I actually happen to love salad. I eat it almost everyday for lunch and I have been known to scarf down a bag of baby carrots as though they were Doritos. But I’ve been at this dance conference since 9:30 a.m., and I’m tired, and I’m about 200 percent done with this day, and I’m just not in the mood to eat your cheap lettuce. I think I’ve earned the right to shove this delicious slice of empty calories in my face without you shaming me.

I know it’s hard for a kale-munching Brooklynite such as you to imagine someone not choosing to eat a meal that only consists of something served in a cardboard box, but honey, that’s what I’m about to do. In fact, eating unhealthily from time to time, or all the time, or whenever the heck you want, and being a person worthy of respect aren’t mutually exclusive. Imagine that! And maybe, considering that you are serving a large group of dancers who are already under pressure to have perfect bodies, you should scale down judgment for someone who just doesn’t want salad.

So, yes, you’re right. No salad. And yes I will take one of the embarrassingly small brownies you are serving. And I will eat it. And I will enjoy every bite.