Today I Saw a Cheeseburger

I lived three lifetimes in the span of two short minutes. My brain went breakneck speed through the fog of all the familiar milestones—birth, walking, talking, graduation, marriage. I was nearly dizzy as I stood there staring blankly ahead, my mind processing the complete production of life from birth to death.

               All because of a cheeseburger.

               All because I wanted what I told myself I absolutely could not have and would not have. Yet, here I am, contemplating the wonders of the universe because in front of me lies the most beautiful creation the world has ever seen… a cheeseburger made in a local college and set out for students (and the like) to buy and eat and assumedly, enjoy.

               I’d had a talk with myself before I wandered over to the cafeteria, aimlessly hoping that salads were set out on display today so my travel over would be devoid of all temptation. I had steadied myself against my own resolve. Cheeseburgers weren’t that good, anyways.

               Only they were. In my mind I could taste the seasoned beef, juicy and warm in my mouth, second only to crisp lettuce, tangy mustard, cooling ketchup. I could feel the bites in my mouth, my taste buds singing in the pleasure that is only achieved when you bite into the perfect cheeseburger. My hands would fill with the grease and condiments that overflowed from the sides of the soft bun, grilled slightly to perfection, and more than likely, coated thinly in delicious butter.

               Why couldn’t I have it? I asked myself, my stomach rebellious and loud, as I stared into the warmer and breathed in deeply the scent of my desired. I hadn’t eaten a cheeseburger in a lifetime, my determination to lose weight that wasn’t really there was paramount in my brain for the last few months, hatred of my body was a small voice that grew into an avalanche of downward spiraling. My head and stomach said, feed me we are starving! The fat stores in my body said, you don’t need it, you can live without it. Just like I had lived the better part of those months without the joy of fellowship. Just like I had avoided social interactions based on food for months, so I could lock myself in my room and feel sorry for myself. My war with food and my war with my own body plagued me like a cloud of locusts, creating destruction and darkness in its wake.

               I saw more than just a thick cheeseburger when I looked into that warm metal case. I saw within its walls the answer I had been searching months for and hadn’t found, because I was looking in the wrong place. I had sought the comfort of all my years of personal rejection in the one place I would never find it—in a mirror. A mirror that told me that I wasn’t enough and that I was too much, all at the same time. I had sought comfort in shame. I had pushed myself to grow stronger, to think harder, to be more determined. I had given myself talk after talk that consisted of nothing but deprivation and anger.

               Then I saw this cheeseburger. It certainly is not the only cheeseburger I have seen in months. I came into this cafeteria and passed by hundreds like it as I got a salad or just a bottle of water. I had never once taken the moments to consider that much like salads and bottles of water, this cheeseburger was a food option.

               So today I picked it up. Today I paid for it and filled it with all the condiments I normally deny myself. I take special notice to include mayonnaise, even if it isn’t my absolute favorite, simply because I can, if I want to.

               Today I set it on the tray and found a table near the back corner where I could relish the taste of my purchase. It wasn’t that I didn’t have people to sit with, it was simply that I knew in these moments, something was going to happen to me. I could feel it building like you could feel a summer storm coming.

               I sat.

               I regarded the cheeseburger reverently. It was in front of me. My mind was in disbelief. Had I really bought this? Am I really going to allow myself to eat it? I breathed in deep the smell of it again, this time in front of me, nearly in my hands, instead of safely tucked away, inside the confines of food not yet purchased. The smell was different, somehow. Not better, not worse, just different. It smelled in that moment like a choice more than a cheeseburger.

               My brain was torn between biting into it’s warm contents and feeling it in my mouth, and staring at it a little longer, weighing out my choices. I could still throw it away if I really wanted it.

 I chose, in this moment, to bite into it. There was no need to stare at it any longer, I was not going to see it morph in front of my eyes. It was a cheeseburger and a cheeseburger it would stay.

               I bit into it slowly, thinking to myself that I probably looked absolutely ridiculous in the dark corner alone, starting at the cheeseburger and then biting into it so carefully you would think I had no teeth.

               It tasted exactly like I had imagined it would taste, but in that moment, I didn’t taste meat and bread. In that moment I tasted freedom. Feelings crashed over me like a wave in a chaotic storm. I suddenly realized, without a shadow of a doubt, what I had been missing when I declined what my body craved most. I wasn’t just missing out on delicious food, I was missing out on life. I missed out on friends and laughter and memories. I missed out on birthday parties and late-night stumbles into the local waffle house. I saw within this cheeseburger so much more than just a cheeseburger. I saw life again. I saw meaning. I saw happiness.

               I chased it.

               And I caught it.

               All because today, of all days, I saw a cheeseburger.