Whenever I want a burger, I already start talking with myself:
“Do you really need this? Haven’t you just said you’d eat clean?”
But the craving usually wins.
Eating it makes me weirdly happy!
And then? The guilt hits. I look at the wrapper and think, “Why did I do this again?”

Burgers are a flavor bomb that goes off the second I bite in: Soft, squishy bun. Juicy, salty patty. And slightly soggy veggies I pretend make it “balanced.” It’s greasy, messy, sometimes dripping down my fingers — but that’s the best part.

Even the weird ones with random sauces? Still good.Honestly, I could eat cardboard if it came in a burger bun.

I’ve loved burgers since I was a kid — probably asked for them more than anything else.
They’re why I get excited at drive-thrus… and why I avoid mirrors the next day.
But they are like my food soulmate…

I never eat a burger alone.
It almost always comes with ice-cold Coke and fries.
I dip them in ketchup or just alternate bites with the burger — salty, crispy, perfect chaos.
Honestly, it’s not just a meal. It’s a whole ritual.