I woke up this morning and thought one thing, "I want to eat a f*cking Big Mac."
It has been such a long time that I have eaten at a McDonald's willingly. I went for a couple of years without eating there and then was forced to do so when I was in an area that had nothing for lunch but McD's. That last visit had me eating a Filet-O-Fish that was so awful that I couldn't make it past two bites. I ate the fries and was on my way.
This morning was different. I HAD to have a Big Mac. So, for lunch I did.
Ralphie and I were pretty good about not eating fast food (except the occasional In-N-Out) and I was content with that. Now that we've split, I said Spurlock (the 'Super Size Me' dude) be damned, I'm eating a Big Mac. I could made the decision without a committee meeting (you know, the spouse back-and-forth about where we should eat and where we should never eat) and I just did it.
And you know what? I liked it. I enjoyed it. Yes, I couldn't eat many fries, yes the drive-thru was a nightmare, yes I feel 1% guilty for doing it, but you know what? Too freakin' bad. I did it. And as I type with greasy fingers on my new unpaid for laptop, I'm alright with that. I don't know if I'll be back there again, but for today I am happy.
To heck with guilt. If that Spurlock guy was here right now (or even the guy who wrote 'Fast Food Nation') I would wipe my greasy fingers on his shirt.
