Like many Americans, I have struggled with my weight for the majority of my life. I said “majority” instead of “all” because it wasn’t always like that. There was a time when I didn’t have this problem. And I didn’t grow up American. I grew up in Saudi Arabia.
Up until I was 9 years old, I weighed the normal weight for my age. Then one night, my dad came home with dinner. It was something we had never seen before. We could tell this was something different. It didn’t smell like the usual stuff he brought home like lamb gyros, beans, or chicken with rice. This dinner had a logo, and it spelled Hardee’s.
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Even before he opened the bag, the smell quickly drew the family towards it like a cube of sugar in an ant farm. It smelled different, it spoke to our deepest desires, and we paid attention. As we sat down at the table we set out the plates and spoons. We soon realized, however, how redundant that new food made those eating devices. There were burgers each wrapped individually, and french fries portioned in little paper holders for each member of the family. The fries were crunchy and salted enough to drive us towards those Hardee’s labeled soda cups pretty quick. The meal was a new wonderful and fun experience. There was just one thing that didn’t satisfy me. I wanted more. Much more.
