Sell Out

Most of you are fortunate enough to only be acquainted with the (somewhat) conventional Martha.
Then there are those of you who have either known me for the duration of your lives and are obligated to love me regardless, or who have been unfortunate enough to gain my trust and love and feel obligated to love me. Either way, you are well acquainted with the Martha with the wildly unpopular opinions.
I do not wish to expose most of these opinions here, I am still working my way into most of your lives and hearts through conventionalism, and I don't believe that my quirks would be seen as endearing.



One of my least (but still somewhat) unpopular opinions is that fast food is of the devil. This is not to say that I have never partaken of the saturated (chemically-treated-deliciousness) fat of a french fry. Nor is it to say that I do not drive to the Iceburg once in a blue moon in order to obtain a Philly cheese steak. In weak moments, like those dances I have with the devil, I cave from the temptation. Also, (like those dances I have with the devil) I always end up feeling unfulfilled and remorseful. I have been pretty diligent about boycotting the big chains, I don't remember the last time I ate at McDonald's, Burger King, or Wendy's. That is until last night.
I was in full-blown pregnancy mode, just trying to survive with a half smile, lying on the bed at 9 p.m. slightly nauseas, and delirious with fatigue. Suddenly, and without forewarning, the dirty desire overwhelmed my body. My mouth craved it, my stomach sang for it, yea, my very soul demanded a bacon cheese burger. I called to my husband. I told him what I needed. He thought I might be joking. I assured him this was no joke. Like a diligent husband (who has knocked up his wife), he put his boots and coat on and headed to the nearest Wendy's.
There was no stop watch on hand, so I can not tell you if I broke a world record scarfing down those fries and that burger. I do know that there has never been a sweeter meal in recent memory (that is not saying much, my memory is pretty limited).

Other foods I boycott with enthusiasm but which have seemed to become daily requirements:

I have lectured long and hard on the evils of soda pop, but somehow the friendly, flirty bubbles of Sprite and the frothy headiness of Apple beer have worked their way into my heart.



Sugary treats without any nutritional value usually obligate my head to shake in denial. As of late, I routinely roast soft, pillowy marshmallows over my gas range by the half-dozen.



So yes, I've sold out. But only on a few things, and only in the name of keeping my food down. Those of you who know me well can still count on most of my unpopular views. I know they entertain you.

I wonder what this child will look and be like, considering what I feed him/her.