I remember and time and place when fast food was exciting. I never understood why my parents groaned as we drove through the drive-thru at McDonads or Taco Bell or Kentucky Fried Chicken. I loved the Filet-o-fish with no cheese, the chicken nuggets with honey, and we'll talk about Taco Bell in a moment. I loved munching on my goodies as we headed on our road trips, hours dragging on end. The monoteny was broken by those delicious juices oozing out of that gray fish. Delish!
Fast-forward to high school. The inside of my white Nissan Maxima often resembled a fast-food cemetary. White Taco Bell bags stood like tombstones in the back seat and on the floor, the rotting entrails of bean burritos inside. People wouldn't ride with me because of the stench. I had a terrible habit of eating something from that death hole every day after high school. Maybe it was my own way of rebelling. Forget drugs and alcohol! Kristin ate TACO BELL!
Fast-forward another 10 years. I can hardly stand the sight and smell of fast food. I usually take great care in packing lunch and eating a healthy dinner. I hate how fast-food is the norm for many people, who can't afford to cook their own meals. I wish they had other options, like cheap fresh veggies and fish. I feel like that processed Filet-o-Fish expanded inside my belly, creating an alien of a fast food pregnancy. I can't handle it. I'm full and hungry at the same time. I'm about to explode.