Have you noticed how the great meal deals of those fast food
restaurants keep getting bigger and bigger all the time? It seems that no
matter how big they are, we always want them just a little bit bigger. After
all, what does the government know, saying that we only need 2,000 calories per
day? Where in the Constitution does it give them a right to limit our food
intake? I’m an American; I have a right to eat all I want, or at least all I
can afford.
Why, if I want to eat all those calories in one sitting, I
should be able to. Just think of it, stop in for a quick bite of cholesterol,
fat and salt, all wrapped up in a supersized-jumbo-deluxe burger fiesta. Who
cares about eating healthy, bring it on! My doctor can give me something to
keep me healthy, that’s his job, not mine.
You know, as big as those meals get, it seems like they’re
never big enough. You can sit there and pig out on all the cholesterol and
carbohydrates you want, but eventually, you get to that last French fry. Oh,
how sad it is to finally reach the bottom of the barrel, or at least the bottom
of the French fry wrapper. “Why can’t they make these things bigger?” you ask, “I
could keep on eating them for at least another hour.”
Yes, it’s a sad moment we all must face, when we finally get
to that last French fry. Yet, it comes to us all; that moment when we must say
goodbye to our super burger meal, with all its fat and calories. That last French
fry is consumed, and all we have left are the memories.
There’s a sad finality to wadding up the wrappers, almost
like burying your pet cockroach. To have to throw away the clothing which held
that succulent juicy cholesterol burger, and those carbohydrate sticks we call
fries. Letting them go is like saying goodbye to an especially close friend. Even
so, this is a friends whom we get to take with us forever.
Maybe we should start naming our meals. Then, when we meet a
friends who we haven’t seen for years, we don’t need to be embarrassed about
our fat, we can instead introduce them to all our friends. “This here, that’s
Marv, he was a triple burger I ate on the Fourth of July; and this over here,
well, she was special; that was the three pound burrito I ate on New Year’s.
Yeah, me and my friends here, we get along great. I’ve kept them safe and warm
for a long time.”
Of course, naming every French fry might be a bit much. It would
be hard to keep track of all those names. It might just be easier to name every
roll of fat, like “the French fry hills” and “soft drink slope.” Yeah, that
would be easier to remember. Then, they could all get together, like a little
family.
You see, there’s no reason to get sad about that last French
fry. Yes, your taste buds will have to say goodbye to them, but the rest of you
can welcome them with open arms, welcoming them home to stay… forever.
