I’m Turning Into One of THOSE People!

So, I’m recovering from the train wreck that I have been after reviewing certain issues with my doctors. I owe a lot of that to my ex. Our friendship has been largely schizophrenic, ranging from pleasant to acrimonious to disdainful to apathetic. That being said, he knows me and he reads this blog (which seems like an act of self-torture, but that’s his fuck to give). However, he knows my propensity to see the worst case scenario and make myself sick over it. He was in the area and visiting and allowed me to borrow his brain. He can channel Pollyanna in a second. I try; he succeeds. He helped me out and, no matter what our other issues are, I can’t express the depth of my gratitude.

But that leads me to what I wanted to talk about today. Since he has moved, he has been bereft of some of the fast food restaurants and eateries exclusive to this area. He asked if my roommate and I wanted to eat together last night and he shimmied and chose the king of the yummy-but-terrible-for-you fast food places around here (Del Taco for those who care, like a rival to Taco Bell but less homogenized and with fries. Don’t judge.) He was also very late for his arrival time, so I plowed through a pickle, some cherry tomatoes, some mini bell peppers, and some cucumber as a snack, all with a little bit of low fat ranch dressing. I hard boiled a couple eggs and put them in jalapeno juice so that they can pickle in it and be a good protein snack or added to a salad later.

My ex finally arrived, we all went out to eat. I ordered something small-ish: two chicken soft tacos, some fries, and a drink. I got home and gobbled them up. When thinking about my reaction to this meal, I am reminded of a comedy sketch by Jim Gaffigan talking about Hot Pockets, and the same applies to this meal. “I don’t feel good. Did I eat it or rub it on my face? My back hurts!” I ended up taking something for indigestion, which this Del Taco laughed off like someone taking a broken flyswatter and harsh language to Godzilla. *crunch* I felt greasy, my stomach was distended, my throat burned, and I felt like I would ooze oil if someone squeezed me too hard. I was very glad I didn’t get the chili fries (and I wanted those chili fries). I thought I would sleep it off, being careful to not sleep on my stomach.

I woke up, brushed my teeth, and belched. That Del Taco from the night before was right back with me, and I can tell you that I didn’t miss it. I still felt greasy. Then it occurred to me: I have had fries once in the past two months, possibly longer. I have lost 15 pounds just by eating better in that time period and am holding steady now. I have been eating more veggies and fruit than should be legal. I have chicken breast and veggies and/or rice almost every night.

This delightful concoction of grease and sauce and Del Taco goodness was making me sick. My body has gotten used to eating better. My ex was trying to murder me! I’m now one of those awful people who legitimately get sick from eating fast food. I’m horrified! It’s not just pretense, and that’s the most horrible thing I can think of. I’m telling you right now that if you put Del Taco’s chili fries in front of me, I would eat every last bite. And then I would want to die.

I am turning into one of those people, and I’m not happy about it.

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~ by Darren Endymion on March 5, 2015.

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