The Double Whopper
OK, for some reason Ryan is just so impressed that I ate an entire Double Whopper the other day. He told me I need to blog about it. So here it is, the whole greasy story...
We stopped at a filthy and disgusting Burger King/gas station on the way home from Thanksgiving vacation because he had to pee even though the kids were quiet and the baby was sleeping. Between trips to the bathroom (aka. "small room of fecal coliform"), I had to quickly decide what to order. And because I am still the nazi breastfeeder and the babe has a milk allergy, I quickly scanned the photos of the food for something that didn't have cheese.
And for whatever reason, and it could have just been my bad eyesight from playing Webkinz too much, I thought the #2 meal didn't have cheese.
So that's what I told him to order for me.
"Sure?" he said.
"Yeah," I replied and took a deep breath and headed into the bathroom.
When the food came, the kids asked why I ordered such a big sandwich and naturally Ryan had to start making fun of me right there and then. But I put them all in their places and I ate the whole darn thing.
And the fries.
And a diet pop.
And then, even though Ryan totally doubted this, I did not have a belly ache nor did I throw up in the car, and I even ate dinner a few hours later.
Apparently this has been my greatest feat in all of our nine years of marriage, because I've never once heard him tell someone "hey, my wife birthed these three children, isn't that impressive?" but yet he keeps telling people about me eating the entire Double Whopper.
I am woman, see me eat.
We stopped at a filthy and disgusting Burger King/gas station on the way home from Thanksgiving vacation because he had to pee even though the kids were quiet and the baby was sleeping. Between trips to the bathroom (aka. "small room of fecal coliform"), I had to quickly decide what to order. And because I am still the nazi breastfeeder and the babe has a milk allergy, I quickly scanned the photos of the food for something that didn't have cheese.
And for whatever reason, and it could have just been my bad eyesight from playing Webkinz too much, I thought the #2 meal didn't have cheese.
So that's what I told him to order for me.
"Sure?" he said.
"Yeah," I replied and took a deep breath and headed into the bathroom.
When the food came, the kids asked why I ordered such a big sandwich and naturally Ryan had to start making fun of me right there and then. But I put them all in their places and I ate the whole darn thing.
And the fries.
And a diet pop.
And then, even though Ryan totally doubted this, I did not have a belly ache nor did I throw up in the car, and I even ate dinner a few hours later.
Apparently this has been my greatest feat in all of our nine years of marriage, because I've never once heard him tell someone "hey, my wife birthed these three children, isn't that impressive?" but yet he keeps telling people about me eating the entire Double Whopper.
I am woman, see me eat.
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