man's hand driving carSometimes my job requires me to travel.  They are usually day trips and I never mind, as I get to expense my meals, which includes snacks, soft drinks and Laffy Taffy.  It’s really the simple perks that make me happy.

Today I had to travel and after a long day, I arrived back in St. Louis around 8:00 p.m.  I was starving and since I’m trying to be healthy, I decided to go to Subway for dinner.

If Jared Fogel could eat subs and lose weight, surely I could too.  He smothered his subs in Ranch dressing, right?

I headed to my local Subway where I stood in line for 5 minutes listening to a man complain to the cashier about something completely irrelevant.

A woman was standing in line behind him with the strangest butt I have ever seen.  It actually had a large indentation in it and I found myself staring.

After a few minutes of being mesmerized by her behind, I was sure I was in a trance…and still hungry.  No one else came out to make my sandwich, despite the efforts of the zit-faced kid wiping down the tables displaying his heart filled boxers yelled repeatedly to “Jason” in the back to come out.

sandwichObviously Jason wasn’t interested in being my sandwich artist.  Clearly I was not meant to eat Subway.

I left in a huff, taking one last look at that strange ass, hoping the woman wouldn’t notice my fascination with her backside.

I drove away, contemplating how one obtains an actual dent in her butt, my hunger intensified.  I reached into the glove compartment for my emergency bag of peanuts to ease my pangs.

Some people have an emergency kit with road flares and sand.  I have Planters.

Unfortunately, my husband polished off the bag last week without replenishing my stash, so I was left nut-less and hungry.  Now I knew how Lance Armstrong felt.

I called my husband to scold him for pirating my peanuts and he said he was full because he had Hardee’s for dinner. Apparently when I’m gone he is incapable of using the microwave to heat up food.

cheeseburgersNormally I’m not a big Hardee’s fan, but my desire to eat was strong and overpowered my determination to eat well.  It sounded good.

I headed to the closest Hardee’s and hit up the drive thru.  If I was going to eat fried food and trans fat, I didn’t want to have to do any exercise to obtain it.  That would just be ridiculous.

I pulled up and heard a strange mumbled noise.  It sounded like someone was suffocating, potentially from their arteries clogging.

I realized the horrendous noise was coming from the speaker at the drive thru.  I wasn’t sure if it was a recording or an actual person, but I didn’t care.  Mama wanted her food and she wanted it now.

I loudly belted out my order to ensure the she-bot in the speaker heard it correctly.  There’s nothing worse than regular fries when you have your heart set on curly.

My order displayed on the screen and the suffocating person on the other end inquired as to whether I wanted to increase the size of my order.  Of course I did!

But I wanted to be conservative so I agreed to a medium.  After all, I was trying to be healthy.

I pulled around to the window to pay, and to see if the woman was still breathing or if she followed the light.  The woman was alive and well, complete with the bad attitude all fast food workers have when working a Friday night shift.

She also looked at me with judging eyes as I salivated at the smell of fried imitation meat.

She passed me out my bag of food and I did my best not to snatch the goodness from her tiny hands.  I figured she had a rough day and I didn’t want to make it worse by assaulting her.  I looked down at the bag of food and this is what I saw:


Was this serious?!  Did Hardee’s really make a bag advertising how fat its patrons were?  Surely this was a joke.

friesAs if Hardee’s needed to explain that the person purchasing food was hungry. That was a no-brainer.  Putting it on the bag somehow made it mean.  I felt like they were mocking me for eating their product, and for eating such a large quantity of it.

I wondered if when I unwrapped my burger, a voice would call me “fatty” and then punch me in the face.

Why couldn’t they be discreet about the contents of the bag?  Why did they have to suggest the contents were large amounts of food?  Why not put a statement that says “This large bag contains fruit and a side salad“?

Okay, I realize that might not be reasonable, as my fat hands carrying the bag suggested I wasn’t eating a salad and fruit.

But did Hardee’s have to be so obvious and crude?

Why didn’t they just write “This person has clogged arteries and is on her way to a triple bypass.”  Or maybe “This guy hasn’t seen his manly parts in 3 years.”  Or how about “This person eats her feelings“?

What was Hardee’s doing to me?  I already felt bad enough about eating their food.  The only reason I went there was because the teenager who couldn’t afford a belt at Subway couldn’t get his act together to make me a sandwich.

I felt chastised for my purchase.

I drove home and took the bag in the house quickly, before the neighbors could see me touting a bag from yet another fast food restaurant.  I went inside and shamefully ate my burger and fries.

To make myself feel better, I turned on an episode of The Biggest Loser.  For some reason, watching people diet while I stuff my face is quite soothing.

I finished my meal as a wave of self loathing swept over me.  I decided I just needed to get over it and embrace the fact that I ate Hardee’s.  I waited for the diarrhea to set in while reminding myself tomorrow is another day, and I will do better.

I also realized I was happy other products didn’t make obvious statements on their packaging.  Imagine the embarrassment of purchasing a pack of toilet paper with a label that says “This person has the runs and a chapped ass.”

It’s all about perspective.

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