McDonald’s large soda and bag (from 2014). Photo by Katelyn Avery.

Stories of pink slime turn my stomach, but they don’t turn me off of McDonald’s. I sound like a hypocrite, but that’s what 22 year old’s do.

The chain has cemented a place in my life, and it’s not about to be uprooted. There are cracks though; I don’t want McDonald’s as often as I did around age 5. The Happy Meal was around $2 then, and my mother was thrilled to take my sister and I somewhere that served a hamburger, fries, a drink, and a toy on a mother’s budget.

Construction workers aren’t going to arrive with fresh cement to fix the aging spot any time soon. McDonald’s desires have become less powerful, but I’m not clean from my McDonald’s addiction. I also don’t plan to ever kick the habit.

I watched “Super Size Me,” as a kid, and I know McDonald’s shouldn’t be treated like a real meal, that you have seven days a week. Once a month at the most is my limit, during my trips to the mall. The Dollar and More Menu (Previously the Dollar Menu), calls my name every time I enter a food court. Nobody puts the McChicken sandwich in the corner.

McDonald’s fried are what I crave the most of course. They are truly golden. I have self-control though, and that’s what matters.

McDonald’s gets a bad wrap, but I’m on the other side of the fence. McFood is here to stay.

– Katelyn Avery

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