We all have secret shame in whatever forms. Just things we aren’t particularly proud of.

One of my secret shames is, I imagine, quite common.

I ran an errand during lunch yesterday and generally when I run an errand, I’ll get something to eat while I’m out rather than coming back and eating in the cafeteria at work. I didn’t feel much like getting out of the car, so it was going to be a drive through. And if I’m going to drive through, well, I’m going to drive through a McDonald’s. I love it. Yes, I repulse myself on the daily.

Clearly based on the line in the drive through, I’m not the only dirt bag who can’t control herself when it comes to a salty little McDonald’s cheeseburger baby. Don’t worry, I made sure to rationalize this choice in my head. “They have feeding fat Americans down to a science. This will take like 5 minutes. It will be good. You will be happy.”

You can’t really tell from the picture, but that line is a solid 10 cars deep.

I’m sure you’re like, uhh, okay, whatever, we all eat shitty fast food sometimes. This doesn’t really count as secret shame. And honestly, when I do it, I really feel fine about it. The shame sets in when I get home and have to add another one of these to the collection.

Childhood dreams in a dirty plastic pile. Mmm mmm mmm.

I haven’t eaten anything from a McDonald’s that wasn’t a Happy Meal… basically ever. I save the toys for my niece and nephew, so this is just the fraction that have made it all the way home with me in the last couple of years. Something about it just doesn’t feel quite right. I’m sure it’s something like animal rights abuse, but I can’t bring myself to google it because ignorance is bliss.

I felt compelled to write about this mostly because the girl in front of me sat in this same drive through line and she literally ordered just a strawberry smoothie. So I think that pretty much confirms they put drugs in the food, right? I mean, no strawberry smoothie is worth a 10-minute wait in a McDonald’s drive through, is it? Whatever, I’m not the secret shame police.

Anyway, I also figure that maybe if I write it down, my embarrassing Pavlovian response to passing a McDonald’s will somehow vanish. I know it won’t. I actually hate this post, but oh well.