Fast food

I am fast food.

Grown from the roots of impulse, empty calories - survival.

I attempt to be wholesome. Kind of like a salad ... bright colors, flashy name, decent flavor ... but, in reality I can be bad for you. How could a salad be bad? Arby's has managed it with their chopped farmhouse crispy chicken salad - 460 calories, 25 grams of fat, 1090 miligrams of sodium (nearly half of the daily recommended 2400 mg) would you like fries with that?

I'm a here and now kind of person.

Bright pictures, meal deals, gimmicky.

Save now, eat here! See, our potatoes are steamy (they totally use wet tampons to make the steam rise in commercials).

I am what I eat (and I assure you, I am NOT tampon potatoes).

This weekend, I sat in front of no fewer than three sqawk boxes shouting an order to teenagers who somehow think they can judge me for pulling outside their little window. We drove over 300 miles, and pulling Babygirl in and out of the car was not an option. I've learned that naptime=drive time.

Do not interrupt the REM cycle because your stomach acid is revolting!!

I know better. I always feel like ass after eating fast food. AL-WAYS. I still do it. It's the impulse. Heaven forbid should I pack a sandwich. I pack all sorts of nutrients into little bpa free containers for Babygirl and then go eat shit myself. What am I thinking?

Anyway, I'm still scrubbing the oil from my pores, and trying to do the math as to the number of Activia packages I'll need to get my morning "rhythm" back in order.

By next weekend, I'll have forgotten all about it.