I have a handful of go-to restaurants that seem to beckon me from far and wide. Take my favorite burger spot, for example. Their burgers are always cooked to perfection, and the hand-cut fries are simply divine. However, there’s a catch: as soon as I finish my meal, I find myself rushing to the restroom as if my body has been possessed by some food-related spirit. It’s like this delicious fare has a magical ability to trigger my digestive system in an extraordinary way.
The moment I feel that familiar urgency, I can’t help but pray for mercy from the universe, vowing that I’ll never subject myself (or my poor backside) to this kind of suffering again. But deep down, I know I’ll return. It doesn’t matter if my kids groan, “Mom, that place makes you feel awful, do we really have to go?” My cravings overpower any discomfort, and they always win out.
Just the other day, I indulged in a large fry alongside a decadent bacon cheeseburger. Everything felt great—until five minutes later, when I suddenly panicked, realizing I was about to explode. I tried to deny it, convinced my sudden need to go was just due to the sunshine. Standing there, pretending to be engrossed in my phone, did nothing to help. The urgency was overwhelming.
In a moment of desperation, I “accidentally” dropped my napkin, allowing me to bend down and ease the cramps that were stirring up trouble inside me. My kids, recognizing the look in my eyes, grabbed my keys and headed for the car, with my youngest saying, “Mom, go take care of that! I’ll get your soda. Can we still get ice cream?”
As I sat in the restroom, praying no one knocked on the door, I recalled all the times I’ve put myself through this. I wondered if this time would finally push me to just eat at home, where my safe snacks like chocolate Cheerios await. But I doubt it.
My go-to bagel shop has the same effect. I remember one of the first times it happened after I had my three kids. I had to drag them into the restroom with me while wearing a jumpsuit, which was a disaster waiting to happen. Picture me trying to explain to my toddlers why my shirt was all askew while they touched everything and announced to the entire restaurant that they just witnessed their mother’s bathroom ordeal.
Even my beloved sub shop gets me sometimes. How can a veggie sub lead to such chaos in my digestive tract? One minute I’m ordering a footlong, and the next, I’m in a race against time as my body prepares to unleash a torrent of chaos. Maybe it’s the guacamole? I’m not ready to give that up—it’s essential!
Then there’s my favorite sesame chicken at the buffet, which wreaks havoc on my insides, leaving me longing for more despite the aftermath. And the tacos from down the street? They often leave me feeling like my backside is on fire shortly after they depart.
Yet, the discomfort is never enough to deter me from diving into the deliciousness. Right now, I could definitely devour a burrito, a taco, and wash it down with some egg rolls—maybe even some fried rice. After a good bathroom visit, I’d be ready for soft serve ice cream, my ultimate guilty pleasure, even though I know it will lead to another round of chaos. Sometimes, it even feels like a winter storm is raging in my digestive system.
In short, nothing will keep me away from my beloved bacon cheeseburgers, faux ice cream, and greasy delights. I’m starting to think my body has accepted this as my signature move. Anyone else feeling hungry?
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Summary
This article humorously explores the chaos that ensues when indulging in favorite foods at various restaurants. The author shares relatable anecdotes of racing to the restroom after enjoying delicious meals, highlighting the struggle between cravings and discomfort. Despite the aftermath, the love for these guilty pleasures remains strong.