I can (should not) has cheeseburger?

I've been fighting off some nearly uncontrollable cravings lately - and its a big N-O on the obvious question that follows a statement like that. Fact is, I don't know where its coming from myself, but its a dangerous obsession, and, for me, one that borders on sinful.

Its those doggone fast food cheeseburgers! What? That's crazy. Gross, even. No, really!

See, for all of my frugal life, I've always prided myself in avoiding what I see as the scam of "Value Meals" and "$4" burgers introduced by fast food chains. Working in Virginia Beach, I'd slide thorough the Wendy's drive through and get a junior cheeseburger and a small fries, feeling as though I'd cheated the system somehow, getting a lunch but not paying dollars for a full sized cheeseburger.

Then, conscious of my weight, I switched to fast food salads when I ate out. But 'tho I love me a Wendy's Southwestern Taco Salad, the resultant squabbles over which little blond headed girl gets to eat the nacho-flavored crumbs from the chip bag and -really- who gets to lick the sour cream packet, are just too much to bear.

And yes, truthfully, we shouldn't be eating out at all when we're trying to pay down debt. But hold onto your stones. With two little girls and a mama who's often hanging on by her fingernails, those golden arches look surprisingly like a pair of welcoming arms.

Weh-eh-elll, now I see what I've been missing. In a fit of indecision the other day at the register, after I'd already placed an order for breaded, processed, deep fired poultry-ish goodness (?) for the girls, the cashier suggested a "~$4~" cheeseburger for me. What the hek, I was hungry. And it was all downhill from there.

See, the burgers on the value menu have no juice. Dry burgers on dry bread. But the burgers advertised with pictures are full of greasy, juicy goodness. Add a slather of mayo mixed with warm mustard, a splat of ketchup and a hothouse tomato, top with a couple slices of dill and it is a recipe for satisfaction.

For a moment. Several, maybe.

The guilt comes in the evening...lying in bed, wondering where the vague feeling of discomfort is from. And in the morning, when the Fat Jeans, um....fit.

So, if you catch me with a gleam in my eye and a mustard stain on my shirt, please call me on it. Because in my very personal struggle with my weight, fast food ~$4~ cheeseburgers are currently The Enemy.