It's better for my health and my purse, I am sure. It's better for the rest of the family, as well. It isn't as if I went there every day of the month, or even once a week. McDonald's and I are parting company after 40-some-odd years, excepting for the giant unsweetened tea.
It isn't out of some patriotic boycott. It isn't because my favorite sandwich, the Double Fillet O'Fish, cost $4.19 all by itself in my area. And despite the health benefits, it's not about health; at least, it's not the health issues of bad McDonald's versus healthy me.
There was a time in this world when I could go to work, go out and party after work, wolf down a huge 12-inch Chicago submarine sandwich, fully loaded, and bring home another 12-inch sub for breakfast, to be eaten in a few hours. I gained no weight as a result. My stomach never complained.
I know I went to McDonald's before my 14th birthday, but I'll never forget the first time I went alone and paid for it. I had a lovely hamburger, an order of fries, and a hot chocolate. It tasted like Heaven.
But my body has changed, and with it, my trips to McDonald's. After a couple years of tests, three food diaries, antibiotics and several rounds of various forms of Omeprazole, I now know there are some foods that just don't agree with me any longer. So does my doctor.
It's not a long list: Iceberg lettuce, coffee, regular orange juice, and most of the menu of McDonald's. Everything's healed, there's no hernia, and yet- when I go to McDonald's, even if I've had a pill prior, it attacks me, painfully. Everything must stop while digestion takes place, and it's a painful process.
So, it's now 6 to 8 little meals, lean meats, fresh veggies and fruits excepting the offending lettuce, and no more Mikky D's.
I won't hurt again, but I already miss those double Fillets!