In N Out Burger
California, Nevada, and Arizona
I’m going to regret doing this because it’s only going to make everyone angry, but I have to do it. I have to say it, or else I’ll be accountable for silent consent.
*inhale* Here goes.
Burgers are not good for you.
I know you’re mad at me for saying it, but let’s be real here. You’re not mad because I’m wrong. You’re mad because shallow down inside, you know that I’m right.
Burgers are bad for you. They’re made of red meat, and even if the beef didn’t come cows that were physically, mentally, and emotionally abused into a court of law, it’s still ground beef. Ground beef has to be fatty in order to taste good, and there is no way anyone can say, with a tobacco company’s face, that beef fat doesn’t hurt your heart. Add a blanket of bright orange triglycerides and a soft, pillowy bun that is the nutritional equivalent of, well, a soft pillow, and you have a California King-sized bed of bad.
You know it’s the truth. I know it’s the truth. We all know it’s the truth — the facts are right there in black and white — but we just don’t want to accept it so we manipulate the facts in our heads and come up with flimsy excuses that make perfect sense only to us. Why do we do that?
Why? Why do I do that?
The burger I get is from In N Out, and In N Out isn’t like those other fast food burger restaurant chains. In N Out is clean and bright and so white that it has to be sanitary. Most fast food restaurants are franchises, but In N Out is owned by a family. It’s a family restaurant; the staff is dressed in such dorky outfits, they have to be wholesome; and they print Bible verses on the bottom of their paper drink cups. I mean, come on. Bible verses? Now that’s just holy.
I get the Protein Burger, a burger without the carb guilt of a bun. Sure, the burger is beef, but In N Out makes their burgers from fresh beef, not frozen. Those other places use frozen beef. Frozen is bad, but fresh is good! You can’t tell me fresh isn’t good.
The Protein Burger is wrapped in layers of fresh, crisp lettuce. I get more water, fiber and trace vitamins than I would from a single wilted leaf. There’s cheese on there, but it’s not really cheese so much as an adhesive for the fresh tomatoes and onions. Daddy says that onions (and garlic) are like the motor oil of the body. You need them to run smoothly. I get the burger Animal-style. No one else does “Animal-style.” It’s amazing, isn’t it, that I can have it “animal-style,” something so rare, something that I like so much?
That’s what I do. That’s what I tell myself. That’s how I convince myself.
Deep down inside, though, of course I know I’m kidding myself.
I know I’ll regret it later, but for ten minutes, no, just five, in that moment, I ignore the deep down inside and let myself believe all those things because I just want to be happy eating a burger.
In N Out’s Animal-style Protein Burger makes me happy, and isn’t that all that matters? Isn’t happiness what we should all want anyway?!?!
I never try to justify French fries, though. Why would I? French fries are just pure, fat-caloric guilty pleasure.
Besides, that’s why I always get *ahem* a Diet Coke.