Eating the World
Despite my love of junk food, I generally try to eat healthy. I don't want to have a heart attack, or you know, be obese. So every meal I try to maintain that delicate balance between what I want to eat and what I should eat.
Except when I have PMS. For one day out of every month, I let myself eat exactly what I want to. If I want a double cheeseburger meal from McDonald's, with large fries, an apple pie and a vanilla shake, then I will. And I won't even feel guilty about it. If I want mozzarella sticks and candy bars and four-cheese anything, I go for it. I imagine that "eating for two" is pretty much the only exciting thing about pregnancy. I don't think I want kids, but sometimes I fantasize about being a surrogate, with nine blissful months of eating to my heart's content. Oh wait, no sushi though. Fuck that.
I decided to walk home from work today. I don't live close to work, but since I have PMS, I was basically a lunatic for most of the day and thought it might be a good idea to walk it off. On the way home, I pondered my dinner options. Suddenly, it hit me. Tater tots.
But what to have with my tater tots? Why, a burger, on an onion roll, with cheddar cheese and steak sauce, of course. The thought put a little spring in my step, and I speed-walked to the Key Food on Avenue A.
No. Fucking. Tater. Tots. I swear, that Key Food is the worst. It makes me angry. One Sunday, I was planning on making pork chops for the dinner crew, (And if I'm being honest, I was following a heavily-doctored Rachael Ray recipe.) and there were no pork chops. At the grocery store. It sucks so bad. Once, The Roommate went at a weird hour and she said all of the refrigerated areas had been turned off. She didn't know for how long, but just consider yourself warned if you live in the East Village.
So I got French fries, but it wasn't the same. And now I'm going to sulk until it's time to eat whatever I want next month. I'm thinking jalapeņo poppers, maybe.
