moonglowTo Big Mac or Not to Big Mac
April 14th 2008 13:01
There are few things sadder than cruising through a McDonalds drive-thru on a Saturday night. By yourself. At midnight. And then ordering a lone Big Mac, and wedging it in as you drive, so as not to let it get cold and thus turn to rubber. I’m not going to lie, I felt vaguely pathetic executing this exact scenario on the Saturday night just passed. I may have even been listening to Love Song Dedications repeats. McDonalds drive-thru at midnight on a Saturday night is all very well if you’re en route home from a you’ve a big night out and are drunkenly leaning out the window shouting ‘extra pickles’ at the microphone as your designated driver friends begs you to be quiet – in fact it’s practically par for the course. I, however, was on the way home from a babysitting job. Yah.
All of this, however, is irrelevant. I want to share with you the internal dilemma I experienced in the lead up to the consumption of this Big Mac. Of course, as it usually does, it began with the initial craving, which occurs twice every six months or so, and this niggling became more and more persistent, as it does and then it reached the state where I could have eaten three in a row at any given moment in time.
You may ask why I have to let it get to the stage where I could eat three in a row at any given moment in time – why I don’t just satiate the initial craving when it appears and be done with it. It’s because I go through a lengthy process of rationalisation that lasts a good two weeks.
Phase 1 … It’s just a Big Mac …and I am rather looking forward to it
It’s one burger, and it’s not like I have them all the time.
Phase 2 … It is 30 grams of fat in one go …that’s pretty revolting
Do I really need to do that to my body? Everyone knows a Big Mac is the Holy Grail of bad health.
Phase 3 … Why should I feel bad about eating a Big Mac?
I am my own woman, not subject to the bossiness of women’s mags and articles comparing Big Macs to Whoppers (Big Macs come out on top in the health stakes, by the way). If I want to satisfy a fat craving, I should.
Phase 4 … Are you really craving the Big Mac, or just telling yourself you’re craving it?
Phase 5 … Eat the Fucking Big Mac and be done with it.
See, I think it stems from being a member of the perennially confused Gen Y. We’ve watched the world grow obese at the same time as witnessing an unprecedented era of eating disorders. The world got fatter and skinny obsessed at the same time. Throw in the manipulation the advertising industry has unleashed on our malleable minds, the confusing editorials trumpeting, at turns, ‘be proud of your curves, eat that second piece of chocolate’ and ‘lose those last 5 kilos, say no to that second piece of chocolate’ and the fact that nothing else tastes like that Big Mac sauce (clearly part of a conspiracy to get people addicted) and it’s no wonder the act of consuming a simple Big Mac has become an agent for defining your entire body image. You are either …
1. The girl who eats the Big Mac in shame and is thus regarded as the poor thing who can’t control herself.
2. The girl who eats the Big Mac because she’s the kind of girl who doesn’t care what people think and is happy with her (usually marvellous) body and besides, she goes to the gym everyday anyway. ***
3. The girl who doesn’t eat the Big Mac, yet obsesses over it and is therefore put on high alert for possible eating disorder by her over zealous friends. That, or she’s just considered sad for not being able to eat what she wants.
Having breezed through the phases, including phase 5, I became the girl who ate the Big Mac, alone, in her car, slightly ashamed but bizarrely defiant. I can eat a Big Mac without dropping dead from clogged veins/self hatred. I can be brazen and cool about my eating habits. I can shrug off social pressures and eat according to my own whims.
I did, however, go to the gym tonight. And I am now eating choc chip cookies. As the mags say, got to find that happy medium, right? Or at least, ride the bi-polar wave of rationalisation every time I go to eat something with more than 10 grams of fat per serving.
*** Clearly everyone wants to be this girl. She is the girl who scores all the coveted results in women’s magazine quizzes, the perfect combination of glamour and carefree chic. Irritating, really.
All of this, however, is irrelevant. I want to share with you the internal dilemma I experienced in the lead up to the consumption of this Big Mac. Of course, as it usually does, it began with the initial craving, which occurs twice every six months or so, and this niggling became more and more persistent, as it does and then it reached the state where I could have eaten three in a row at any given moment in time.
You may ask why I have to let it get to the stage where I could eat three in a row at any given moment in time – why I don’t just satiate the initial craving when it appears and be done with it. It’s because I go through a lengthy process of rationalisation that lasts a good two weeks.
Phase 1 … It’s just a Big Mac …and I am rather looking forward to it
It’s one burger, and it’s not like I have them all the time.
Phase 2 … It is 30 grams of fat in one go …that’s pretty revolting
Do I really need to do that to my body? Everyone knows a Big Mac is the Holy Grail of bad health.
Phase 3 … Why should I feel bad about eating a Big Mac?
I am my own woman, not subject to the bossiness of women’s mags and articles comparing Big Macs to Whoppers (Big Macs come out on top in the health stakes, by the way). If I want to satisfy a fat craving, I should.
Phase 4 … Are you really craving the Big Mac, or just telling yourself you’re craving it?
Phase 5 … Eat the Fucking Big Mac and be done with it.
See, I think it stems from being a member of the perennially confused Gen Y. We’ve watched the world grow obese at the same time as witnessing an unprecedented era of eating disorders. The world got fatter and skinny obsessed at the same time. Throw in the manipulation the advertising industry has unleashed on our malleable minds, the confusing editorials trumpeting, at turns, ‘be proud of your curves, eat that second piece of chocolate’ and ‘lose those last 5 kilos, say no to that second piece of chocolate’ and the fact that nothing else tastes like that Big Mac sauce (clearly part of a conspiracy to get people addicted) and it’s no wonder the act of consuming a simple Big Mac has become an agent for defining your entire body image. You are either …
1. The girl who eats the Big Mac in shame and is thus regarded as the poor thing who can’t control herself.
2. The girl who eats the Big Mac because she’s the kind of girl who doesn’t care what people think and is happy with her (usually marvellous) body and besides, she goes to the gym everyday anyway. ***
3. The girl who doesn’t eat the Big Mac, yet obsesses over it and is therefore put on high alert for possible eating disorder by her over zealous friends. That, or she’s just considered sad for not being able to eat what she wants.
Having breezed through the phases, including phase 5, I became the girl who ate the Big Mac, alone, in her car, slightly ashamed but bizarrely defiant. I can eat a Big Mac without dropping dead from clogged veins/self hatred. I can be brazen and cool about my eating habits. I can shrug off social pressures and eat according to my own whims.
I did, however, go to the gym tonight. And I am now eating choc chip cookies. As the mags say, got to find that happy medium, right? Or at least, ride the bi-polar wave of rationalisation every time I go to eat something with more than 10 grams of fat per serving.
*** Clearly everyone wants to be this girl. She is the girl who scores all the coveted results in women’s magazine quizzes, the perfect combination of glamour and carefree chic. Irritating, really.
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