I can remember the exact day -- the exact moment -- I finished my first Big Mac. I had been trying for years but could never master the enormous burger -- let alone get my wimpy, kid-sized fingers around the thing. I felt a sense of accomplishment then -- and though this probably provides too much of a window into how pathetic and simple I was, there was also a sense of pride. Along with pain. Lots and lots of pain.
Now, I look back and think, "Holy Jebus, man! How many Big Macs did I eat!"
Despite the fact that I was practically nursed on milk shakes and french fries, I have vowed never to take my daughter to McDonalds. Despite the fact I was never obese or unhealthy as a kid, and the only lasting results from all that gluttonous fast-food consumption as a child is a gag-reflex revulsion to it today, I have decided the food is just too fatty, just too unhealthy for the over-parenting health bubble I have created.
It's a vow I know I'll break sooner or later.
Thankfully McDonalds is working to create healthier Happy Meals -- which probably just means fewer chemical-laced plastic toys, but still, they're trying. At least that's what I'm going to tell myself when Emmeline sidles up to her own enormous Big Mac, licks her lips and tries to conquer the beast -- while I sit back and watch with a wistful smile, thinking, "Sweet! Now I don't have to cook dinner!"
