When I ate my first Big Mac, there was not a McDonald’s in my home town. You had to drive about an hour in any given direction to get to one. When I tried my first one, it was love at first bite. (Scarcity drives demand, don’t you know.) I don’t remember if it was my sophomore or junior year in high school, but we finally got a McDonald’s in my little East Texas town. The cars literally stretched about a mile down the street the Saturday it opened. I’m not sure that there was ever a more anticipated opening in our little burg. It was big news. Yep, big news. But it wasn’t pretty. I have vague memories an undetermined period of time where I consumed Big Macs daily. Looking back, it’s hard to believe.
I don’t love Big Macs anymore. I don’t love McDonald’s. And I certainly wouldn’t drive out of my way to get to one. There have been times when I’ve pulled into the drive-through for my kids and smell has repulsed rather than enticed me. In spite my general abhorrence for the restaurant chain, however, about once a year, I have an inexplicable craving for a Big Mac.
Over the last couple of weeks, I felt it coming on. I’d see a commercial, and be tempted. I knew it was coming, and when I woke up this morning, I had a sneaky suspicion that today was the day. Today was the day for a Mac Attack!
I’m not gonna lie. I was stress eating. Stress with a capital “S”. And I’m not ashamed to say it…That sandwich was good. I enjoyed it. I didn’t feel bad about it. I don’t now. And I’m done. Done until the next time. My next annual (or whatever-I’m pretty sure it was well over a year this time) Mac Attack. Nostalgia? Probably Tasty? Usually. An anomaly? Absolutely. Acts of random gastronomy…