But here is what stops me from making every meal a value meal:
1) Michael Pollan’s Food Rule #20: It’s not food if it arrived through the window of your car. If it’s not real food, it must be fake food, and I prefer my fake food in the form of tiny strawberry and banana-shaped candy Runts. He most definitely has a rule that applies to candy too, but kind of like how some people choose which passages of the Bible to preach and which to ignore, I shall pick which food rules I choose to live by. Nobody’s perfect.
2) I won’t even touch chicken nuggets without the Hot Mustard sauce, which tells me, I don’t even really like chicken nuggets, I just don’t know what else to dip into Hot Mustard sauce, and I’m not sure I can go through the drive-thru and JUST order Hot Mustard. I’d test that theory, but that brings me to my next problem:
3) I have this thing where I’m convinced the people at the fast food drive-thru window are judging me. I roll up in my tonka truck, they peer inside and see me by myself, and laugh about how I’m eating fast food alone in secret. Yes, I am aware this is completely irrational. But is it?
4) I never feel glad I ate it. I hate that I just ate it. When I eat good food, I can’t help but make noises expressing how delicious each bite tastes. After I eat fast food, I can’t even remember eating it. It’s like this huge PLC I just pretend never happened. All I can do is brace myself for the
5) Instant diarrhea. I don’t care what you say. I don’t care if you think it’s not physically, biologically, digestively, ethically, morally, possible to digest food that fast. It IS possible, and my body can prove it. Within five minutes of eating fast food, I need to crap it out. Fact.
I hear people eat fast food because it’s convenient, but turns out, it’s terribly inconvenient for me.
Unless I am sitting on a toilet, munching on Hot Mustard sauce dipped in chicken nuggets, delivered by someone else who doesn’t mind the glaring judgment of the drive-thru.