I went to Taco Bell and had their breakfast for the first time a few weeks ago. It was such an experience I thought it deserved a post. Annnnd y’all know how I feel about Taco Bell even venturing into the world of fast food breakfast as I have expounded on this very important subject in the past.
Anyway, I regretted it from beginning to end. Ask my sensory glands why I didn’t stop eating it after the first bite because I don’t know. Here are the things I regret more than eating Taco Bell’s breakfast:
- That time in 8th grade when I was hugged up with my “boyfriend” at the football game when my mamma was sitting in the stands. Because she heard about it and promptly commenced a search for me so that she could find me, punch me in the chest, knock the wind out of me, threaten my life, and make me stand right there in the middle of the track for the rest of the game, crying. But if my mom hadn’t done all that, I regret eating Taco Bell more. Marcia does not stand to be embarrassed.
- That time in 9th grade when I got caught kissing my high school sweetheart by a chaperone on a band trip. Because I was sooooo embarrassed. But if he hadn’t been joking around and given me a hickey on my face (on my face!), I would regret eating Taco Bell breakfast more.
- That semester in my sophomore year of college that I sat next to one of my best friend’s in two of my classes and got C’s in both. Because I had to spend the next two years of college working to get my GPA back up. Brittany, I hope you’re reading this and I still blame you! But if I hadn’t had to miss a few parties to study instead, I would regret eating Taco Bell more.
- The time I missed in church because I was late after stopping to get the breakfast. Can’t get time back.
- The way I’ve let my midsection get a little more juicy than it should be. Because I’ve never had a child, don’t have a disability keeping me from the gym, and am fully aware that McDonald’s was not designed for my metabolism. But if I were just a little more toned, I would regret eating Taco Bell more.
That’s it. Those are the only things in life I regret more than eating Taco Bell’s breakfast. And I’ve done some things, y’all. They compare not to that . . . that . . . that fraudulent egg, sausage, cheese mix I allowed into my body. It wasn’t that it tasted so bad (though it didn’t taste so good). It was just that I had the intense suspicion that it came from a scientist’s lab rather than the earth. Like somebody grew fake meat, fake eggs, and fake cheese under a bright light in a petri dish and then wrapped it all up in a tortilla shell like “ohhh Mariah’ll never know the difference.” Well, you’re wrong, mad scientist. I noticed. Eww. Needless to say, I won’t be back.