Fast Food Hangover

Ugh! I'm so out of it today, sluggish, lazy, totally unambitious. My skin is sallow and my complexion is grey. I have another splitting headache. My body is shaking from the chills. As crazy as it seems, I'm almost unable to Gather. You may think, am I sick? Can I share a secret? I'm so ashamed to report, I'm in the throes of a fast food hangover.

Last night, my husband and daughter went to the Detroit Symphony, leaving me at home to fend for myself. I had previously planned a cleaning frenzy in their absence. It was going to be a great time to clean out my now empty refrigerator, empty because the freezer compressor died and all the food melted and had to be thrown away. The kitchen floor was littered with wet towels from the repairman. There was also other laundry to do and my bird cage to clean. Then I thought I would get in about 45 minutes of violin practice. (No Gathering at home; my computer's in the shop.)

The fridge glistened from a thorough bath of OrangeGlo. All the mystery food was removed and disposed of; the Tupperware containers placed into the dishwasher under the Extra Strength Cycle. This took about an hour or so. By this time, it was past dinnertime, and my stomach was rumbling.

Usually, I like to cook. Actually, I LOVE to cook. My dream is to go to culinary school someday. Unfortunately, there was nothing left in the house to cook, and I had other tasks to complete before the rest of my family came home. So I hopped into my car in search of something quick.

Fast food! That tern is kind of an oxymoron, because after you drive to your local fast food joint, sit in line in your car (or stand in line at the counter), deal with the mindless people working there who can't seem to provide you with correct change even though they have computers, drive back and eat, you may as well have just whipped up something yourself.

I also saw the movie "Super Size Me" and now don't trust what others put in my food. Both my parents had heart disease; one died from it, and I have high cholesteral, for which I take medication. We eat a lot of chicken, turkey, fish and occasionally pork, and lots of healthy vegetables. It's really not a "diet" per se, although I do follow some of the Sonoma Diet; it's more like sensible eating. As most of my friends and acquaintances know, my husband and I are rather the food snobs anyway.

So what do I do? Decide to cave into my cravings and eat fast food. And not just any fast food...oh no, I passed up McDonald's and Taco Bell, and for what? For probably the worst fast food in the world, Kentucky Fried Chicken.

There's a secret love affair between me and the KFC. My mother, who was the parent who passed away from a massive heart attack, was a terrible cook. No, really, I mean God-AWFUL. She was a master of the can opener, and that was good, because we had more canned food in our house growing up than I have right now. She grew up as a privileged child in Japan and never learned how to cook. Their family had a cook; she never had to.

When I was growing up in the 60s, once a week, she would go to KFC and buy the big bucket of chicken for our family. She couldn't fry chicken, so this was the way we came to know chicken. Weekly KFC was probably the start of her arteries clogging but she loved it! I have to admit, I also love the 11 herbs and spices myself, probably for the insanely stupid reason of because it's what I grew up with.

I purchased the Original meal, mashed potatoes and cole slaw (ooo la la!) and hurried home, hoping beyond hope that no one I knew would see me exiting the KFC driveway. At home, I unwrapped my precious cargo and parked my butt in front of the TV.

It was good-very good. The chicken was succulent; the taters nice and hot and the cole slaw was bland, just like I like it. But it's never as good as you remember, is it? As soon as I was close to finishing, regret crept in. Honestly, when I eat fast food now, I can almost feel the cholesteral in my veins. I know it's wrong, but I still do it. Why?

Like a thief, I wrapped up the remnants of my meal and hid it deep in the trash. Then I did something I hardly ever do, I emptied the garbage, in the dark, in a rainstorm. That's usually my husband's chore. He even asked me this morning, Hey, was I in a good mood, because I emptied the trash???

After that, I finished the rest of the chores for the night, and I went to bed. Sleep was fitfull and dissatisfying. Then I woke up this morning, late, with my fast food hangover. Like a drinker who had too many margaritas, I thought, Yuck! I'll never do that again... well, at least not for a long while.