Give Me an M!

After Monday's post, this week became the week of junk food. Monday evening we had pizza, Wednesday was Chinese food, and on Thursday, the worst culprit of all: McDonald's. I haven't had it in ten years and as I pulled off the freeway on my commute home, I saw it with it's yellow arches glowing like a halo. I kept things sized small and ordered from the dollar menu but the damage was done. After the food, I was moody. I mean, there's no real reason to pick a fight with the boyfriend when he's agreeing WITH you. But I did. Everything he sad MAKE HULK MAD! I even yelled at the cat when she ran around my work out mat meowing. I picked her up, yelled, and shook her. That's right, I shook the cat (it sounds like a detective novel: the woman who shook the cat). I don't think I have ever uttered a harsh word towards this creature and there I was, shaking her in rage. The McDonald's acted as reverse steroids with all the same side effects - pimples, moodiness, oily skin, shrunken testicles... wait... - but made me fat rather than strong and a star athlete. I don't think the steroids and physical fitness is worth the rage and constantly terrifying the cat. McDonald's, if you're reading this, prepare to pay for my pet therapy bills.