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I have never been a woman of moderation. Everything I do, I do in excess. Lately, however, my never-moderate eating habits have become just plain hoggish. I have been eating like a woman pregnant with a litter, and procreation is not my body’s bag these days. I am HOGELLA. It’s like I have a lard-ass wish. I cannot stop eating and eating poorly. I have a deep, dark hunger hole and it tells me, “FEED ME BURGERS.” This has been going on for months. Ever since the weather broke from the hot hundred degree-temperatures in August, it is like I have wanted to coat my bod in a layer of fat to protect myself from the upcoming cold weather. To make matters worse, it was about in August that the Whataburger moved right to my own town! Less than 4 miles away from my own front door….. a glorious, splendiferous, magical, delicious, WHATABURGER! WHATAMIRACLE! I had first become acquainted with the Whatachain a few years ago when my hubby and I had to travel to Texas for his business. The giant burgers…. grilled to perfection with seared edges and crisp lettuce, tomatoes, jalapeños and cheese… (as I like them), and the thin, always hot and crispy fries… stamp my butt “Whatabutt” and be done with it! I was hooked! While my youngest son was in theater in a neighboring town, I discovered with delight that I could purchase the Whataproducts while he was busy singing and dancing with the wanna-be-stars. Another Whatamiracle! All this excessive eating really took a dive towards the ugly when it became far too easy to get to the Whataburger for a meal. Post bicycle ride? WHATATHOUGHT Post swim team driving? WHATAGREATIDEA! I kept trying to reign myself in from my whatbadeatinghabits but found I was powerless against the allure of the chain. Last Thursday, my husband was driving my son and his friends to swim team that takes place way across Birmingham. His Thursday night plan is to drive them to swim team and then do a long, 10 mile run. My plan was to stay home, watch television, and this night, I told myself, EAT HEALTHFULLY. I had grilled chicken and had on the standby fresh spring mix salad greens. I had EVERY INTENTION of eating a nice grilled chicken salad for dinner. EVERY INTENTION I TELL YOU! Only…… about 6 o’clock that evening I had a Whatathought. “I could just get in my car and drive to Whataburger.” Before that thought had even had time to cement in my brain…. My mouth was slobbering great pools of saliva. I was a goner. I tried without success to talk myself into that salad, and before you could say, “WHATABIGBELLYYOUHAVE!” I was in my car driving to the restaurant. As I drove, I kept telling myself that this was a mistake, and that I could turn around at any moment and eat the salad. No one would be the wiser for my near folly. Of course it was a lost cause. I pulled into the drivethru line and imagined the delicious hot fries, bursting in salt and slathered in ketchup finding their way into my belly. I was one car back. The woman in front of me rolled down her window, stuck her arm out, and began to order. And WHATANARM! Her arm was easily twice the size of my thigh. Furthermore, it had the consistency of a waterballoon. As she ordered, the giant thigh-arm swooshed and swayed while she pointed to the menu. WAS THIS MY DESTINY?! A tiny voice inside my head said, “GET OUT QUICK! JUST LEAVE WHILE YOU STILL CAN!” An even louder voice said, “YOU ARE SO HUNGRY! YOU MUST HAVE WHATABURGER!” The tiny voice (reason?) said, with great resignation, “at least order the junior Whataburger.” The Whatahog (real me) said, “Yeah, right.” Not being moderate, I ordered the big, giant, Whatameal. WHATASIZED….. of course. It was so delicious that even the thought of my arms growing into to super-thigh-sized-waterballoons in the night was not enough to temper my delight over the meal. WHATAMODERATION?
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