Dear Taco Bell,
I love you from the depths of my soul. But I know you clog my arteries, and for that, I feel guilty.
I remember the first time I met you like it was yesterday…I was in third grade and we were on our way to my friend’s sister’s volleyball game. Her mom went through the drive through, I ordered a Mexican pizza and those little popsicle things you sold in the 90’s (bring ’em back!), and fell in love. Yes indeed, it was love at first taste.
I’ve been with you through all your trials and tribulations, like when you introduced one of my favorite menu items ever – 7-layer nachos (again, bring ’em back!) to some of the failures, like the bacon cheesy potato burrito. Blech.
Friends tell me you use cat meat, dog meat, oatmeal particles and the like to try to make me not addicted to you any longer. I believe them, and yet I still come back for more – knowing full well you only use 35 percent beef in your meat.
What’s wrong with me? I guess I am just a masochist for your cheesy, beany, meaty goodness. I love it all. Especially the nachos. And Mexican pizzas. And chicken quesadillas.
Alas, with this being the beginning of Lent and all, I’m making a promise to myself: To not eat Taco Bell for 40 days. It’s not that I eat it that often, but it definitely is my go-to spot when I’m on the road, and I know I eat it far too often than I should.
It’s not going to be easy, but I know I can do this.
Lord, keep me strong.
What is your #1 vice?
Written for Mama Kat’s Writing Workshop.