So, my sister, Julie, and I hit up the Mac Shack drive thru late last night.
“Welcome to Macdonalds, can I take your order?”
And so she looks at me, winks and says to me, you know, in that telepathic way that only sisters share, I got this.
And then went about her routine order…
“I’ll have two junior chickens, two extra junior chickens, a poutine, a supersized fries, two root beer, two more snackwraps…”
“And a salad, right Julie?”
Yeah. Yah right.
And, I’d like to say I looked at her, at this 135lb female with my jaw hitting the floor. Like, good gawd woman, who you think gonna eat all that?
But I didn’t. I high-fived her. Laughed at the missy who proceeded to say, “here’s your first bag, ladies.”
Laughed with that missy. And then with my sister as we jokingly said it wasn’t just for us…
And then we came home and crushed that food. And 10 minutes later, as we lay in bed, we asked ourselves, over and over, and over and over, why we did that to ourselves. Again.
Owwwwww. My stomach.
So good. But so, so bad.