Dear Patty,

There is no sincerer love than the love of food.
- George Bernard Shaw


I really think i can take this food critic game to a WHOLE nother level.
Today i encountered a picture of a burger, oh but this was no ordinary burger. no, no.
This burger sat there so majestically, i had to name her, Patty. (ha!  As always, pun extremely intended)

Dear Patty,

Let me try and describe to you how you make me feel,
Objectively, you represent gluttony, Patty
but not to me,
i am mesmerized by the idea of how you could taste,
i am so mesmerized that i can almost smell you,

Starting with the fresh little seeds that are evenly spread across the top layer of your all encompassing bun,

drenched in what seemed to be a complex mixture of sauces that i personally don't have domestic access to,

the type of sauces that make you want to leave your house, stand in a line and order you Patty,
using money that i'll definitely need for something else (something far more important).

At this point i am staring at you and drooling while i contemplate the dynamic between the melted cheese and your actually burger patty.

They are in obvious conflict but the type of conflict a couple who has been married for 40 years has, it's overlappingly (this is now a word, yes) messy but essentially they compliment each other and that's why it just works.

My inner health alert goes off when i see that you're a double patty burger, Patty.
Flashes of gluttony and obesity crowd my head,
but simultaneously my taste-buds' curiosity evolves into a serious life threatening craving,
and suddenly i find myself justifying the apparent gluttony with the fact that you have some red onions, crispy lettuce and thick tomato slices, see there's more to you Patty.
 (knowing very well that lettuce, no matter how fresh, green and crispy, has no nutritional value whatsoever).

Patty, you make me go against my better judgement,
you represent what i can't have,
you make me wish that i had superpowers that would allow me to bring you to life,
superpowers that would allow me to slowly but savagely devour you
like a Christian woman on Good Friday who gave up chocolate for lent.

I am drawn to you Patty,
and i know better,
because Patty you sell us all dreams.

I know that you're only this majestic in this picture,
your delicate bun is probably stale and flaky,
the evenly spread seeds are probably scarce and roasted,
the complex mixture of sauces that i have no domestic access to are probably mayonnaise and tomato sauce loosely smeared together,
the melted cheese infused burger patties are probably all synthetic,
as in yes, fake cheese, (Euw!)
and fake meat,
(How can there be world peace if we serve each other fake meat? I don't understand, help me understand! )
all wrapped together and topped up with a variety of equally useless as they are "fresh" vegetables (which, real talk, all they really do is make the bottom part of the roll cold and soggy).

You are the reason i have trust issues Patty,

Yours sincerely,
A victim of your catfishing ways. 

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