McDonalds

Posted on Nov 18, 2013 in Culture, Food | 0 comments

Ssh! I’ve got a secret.

I’ve just been to McDonald’s.

I think if any of my friends knew they’d seriously doubt my credibility.

They’d wonder if I am who I pretend to be.

I deliberately say “Who I pretend to be” there as truly I don’t know who I am, who I am trying to be, what I really believe.

Hey I don’t know if I’m gay (lesbian sounds too harsh, gay, by it’s very nature is lighter, more fun). I fancy Suzy like mad and we have some interesting times, but then if I’m honest I have a crush on bike scientist too. I keep riding up and down the canal where I saw him in the hope that I’ll bump into him again.

I don’t know if I’m vege. I look like a vege, I act like a vege, but I’ve just eaten a quarter pounder cheese, and what’s more I loved every slowly eaten morsel of it.

I don’t know what I want to study, and I’m doing what I’m doing more because it fit with my A levels than because I have any career in mind.

I can see myself ending up running some vegan cafe with a woman’s help group meeting in the back room, while I then go home to my banker husband and cook steak for us all.

I am seriously screwed up, but despite it all some of the time I am so deliriously happy that it all seems worthwhile. Of course the opposite is true too, but I’m beginning to believe the hype and beginning to believe that this is all just a stage and that eventually I might end up a well rounded (but never fat), successful and useful human being.

That’s if I don’t kill myself, or get myself killed first.

Christ. All I wanted to write about was eating a McDonald’s and how it was a bit out of character, but look at yet another rant that I have produced. Maybe I should Just apply to be sectioned!

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