I have this ongoing affair with Big Macs. You see, about every six months something inside of me snaps. Somtimes I see a commercial or pass some kid at the Walmarts with a familiar bag in his hands. And I begin to yearn for that incredible aroma and the taste of that special sauce. The guilt sinks in before I even get to the drive-thru because I know what's about to happen. It's a deep, primal urge. I feel myself loose control as I pull up to the little white box as I blurt out
"Number one with a Diet Coke... and make it a large"
"That'll be six o' one"
My skin tingles as I pull around to the drive up window. I pay the man and toss the bag in the seat next to me, head down, taking a swig of that liquid sin that burns so good. I hand back a couple of fries to the whining two-year-old as I pull over. I dig in the bag until I find the real reason I made that trip to McD's.
The first bite is so incredible. I begin to wonder why I waited so long to indulge in the first place. It's juicy and crunchy from the pickles and lettuce. I don't know what it is about that special sauce but it fills my mouth with sweet sweet bliss.
But just a couple of bites in the sickness begins to sink in. I can feel my blood thickening and the initial rush from the perfect deliciousness is giving way to BLUUUUUUEEEGHHHH. My stomach is feeling full and bloated. I can actually hear my thighs straining at the seams in my jeans.
And then I remember why I always vow never to eat another Big Mac as long as I live.
I think I need to make a trip to Blockbuster this weekend and rent Super Size Me. I know it sounds drastic but if I don't I think I'm destined to repeat history.