• Step One: Temptation. I'm convinced that there are only three types of people who may crave White Castle: those under the influence, those without other options, and those with a glutton for punishment. I fall into the latter category. On Sunday at 10 AM my stomach was doing its usual routine of rigorous morning calisthenics as I drove by White Castle on my way to the Kroger. Keep your eyes straight ahead, I said to myself as I breezed by the restaurant. That way it's not even a temptation. After successfully navigating another trip to the grocery store during quarantine, my eyes darted back to the nefarious white building which was just sitting there beckoning to me. It seemed to whisper coyly, "Come here, you know you want me." I bit my lower lip, undecided on what I should do. You know what will happen, my conscience reminded me. Don't listen to the call.
  • Step Two: Acceptance. I made the quick turn into the drive thru, carefully lining myself up to the speaker. "I'll have four White Castle sliders please," I spoke with quivering excitement. Calm down, you don't want to seem too eager. "Would you like to add fries and a drink to make it a combo?" The voice on the other end asked. "No thank you." I knew what I was there for. I remembered my main purpose for this mission. As the woman took my card and handed me the bag, I realized the mistake I had made. But it was too late. The deed had been done. The smell of caramelized onions quickly filled my car. My mouth watered. YES. THIS IS EXACTLY WHAT I NEED. I sped home in a hurry.
  • Step Three: Joy. I swallowed the first slider whole as it barely made contact with my mouth. Euphoria as if nothing else mattered in that single moment. The second slider was more of a deliberate chew as I savored the juicy pickle and onions. Absolutely delicious. Why did I try and withhold such pleasure from myself? I wondered. The third slider was just as tasty as the second. By the fourth slider, my good mood begin to fade. Fullness. I struggled to chew the last few bites as the high began to wane. The soggy bun was no longer a charming feature to be appreciated but a slog that prevented me from swallowing. I gathered the small boxes in their assigned bag and threw them out with disgust, careful to bury them at the bottom of the trash can. Hiding any evidence of my shame. What have I just done?
  • Step Four: Remorse. There is nothing quite like the feeling of a post-White Castle visit. The combination of bloat along with the burps of rancid-smelling onion linger throughout the day. I laid down on the couch holding my stomach. I felt disgusted with myself for stooping to the lowest form of fast food. It had all happened so quickly that my body wasn't processing the misery I would surely be in later. I felt like I needed a shower, both internally and externally, in an attempt to wash away the remnants. I would not be eating for the rest of the day. I wouldn't be able to weather anything on top of the greasy sliders that were wreaking havoc to my digestive system. This will never happen again. I promised myself. I've truly learned my lesson this time around.
  • Step Five: Repeat. Repeat. Repeat.
apr 25 2020 ∞
may 1 2020 +