Tomorrow begins a new chapter in my life. I’ll begin a month-long journey on a path I’ve never taken. I’ll commit to something that I have not contemplated in all of the twenty-one years I have been on this earth: giving up fast food.
“Only a month?,” some may question. But to a person like myself, fast food is a staple of my daily diet. 31 days is an eternity.
On the way home today, I stopped at McDonald’s to grab some dinner. “I may as well indulge in nutritional sin once more,” I thought to myself. After scanning the menu a bit I made my order. “Can I have a Number 1?,” I asked. I actually almost added a hot fudge sundae to that order when the server asked me if that was all.
After paying, I drifted around until my order was announced. When grabbing the cup for my drink and the bag that contained my Big Mac and french fries from the counter, I felt like a Death Row inmate receiving her last meal.
I sat down in one of their plastic brown chairs, and started eating. I chewed slowly, savoring the food as if it were the last time the flavor would tango with my taste buds before life as I knew it came to a halt.
I cannot help but feel anxious as well as excited about the road I will tread in a fast food-less diet plan. I told my oldest brother about my experiment. “Well, good luck,” he said. “And remember: mind over matter.”
He’s right. I can do this. After all, it’s a step towards a healthier me and possibly an extension on my life.