Me in Place

I’m having this ongoing battle with Mr MIP. He loves microwave popcorn. I hate it. The texture is gross and the smell is awful. I practically gag when I smell it when he makes it “ten seconds past being done.”
We’re at a stand-off right now. He still makes it three or so times a week. I still gag three or so times a week. I tell him the calorie count in a bag of popcorn (close to 500!). He tells me it’s his one snack he enjoys.
He’s so kind, he opens the bag out in the garage or outside to minimize the gagging smell.
I’m so kind, I don’t talk about it every single time he makes it.

But last night, on my way home, I heard a short blurb on the radio about the chemicals released in that steam when you first open the bag. I’m pretty sure the guy called that chemical “poofa.” (Upon looking it up, it seems it would be Perfluorooctanoic Acid, otherwise known as PFOA.)

Ha. New ammunition in the fight against nasty microwave popcorn smells. Should I use it in my warfare? I debated for a while as he munched and we watched TV. Finally, I couldn’t stand it any longer. I muted the TV and machine-gun-shot the words, “I’m really sorry. I tried not to say anything, but I was driving home and I heard the guy say that the chemical smoke that comes out of the microwave popcorn contains poofa and is a known human carcinogen. I don’t want you to be eating carcinogens and I DON’T WANT TO DIE FROM SECONDHAND POOFA!!!”

He kept munching. We watched the rest of our show.
“Killing me softly with poofa…”

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