Meat Mountain: Now I Can Quit You Arby’s

I’ve decided to walk away from my relationship with Arby’s.

Yes, it’s true. After a lifetime of this on again-off again love affair that can only be listed in the “It’s Complicated” category, I’m calling it quits. For real this time. Sure the mystery meat masquerading itself as “beef” was the red flag throughout our courtship, but I was able to mask that by hitting the sauce pretty hard. I always knew the relationship was doomed, but I refused to pay heed to the realization. The feeling was always the same; I’d go in full of heightened expectations, optimism, an ever increasing sense of hopefulness, only to come away feeling cheap and dirty. What had I just done? The lure of the 5 for $5 was too great a temptation to deny.

But now? Now I can’t look away from what my object of desire has become. It’s just too much – on so many levels. The sense of betrayal I feel at the emergence of Meat Mountain after all these years, has left me feeling empty when I know if I would only allow it, I could be so full.  But I won’t. I won’t allow myself to stoop so low.  I can’t stand to look myself in the mirror anymore.

Have you not heard? The fast food chain decided it wanted the world to know it wasn’t just about the beef anymore. No. They’re playing on all teams now, baby. So they began running ads featuring a salacious, lip smacking image of proteins piled high to illustrate the oh-so-many meats one can encounter at their establishment.  Little did they know that people would begin asking for it. “I’ll have one of those sandwiches with all the meat on it” they cried.

Just what does “all the meat” entail? It’s no less than roast beef, roast turkey, ham, bacon (because of course), 2 chicken tenders, brisket, Angus steak, corned beef, topped with cheddar and swiss for good measure. It’s a tall order. Literally. And it will cost you, like any risky relationship would. This one however, will be $10, thank you. Of course the price paid is immeasurable down the road of artery hardening regret.

I can’t in good conscience go on like this. Not anymore. I can’t turn a blind eye to what Arby’s is doing to my family, my sense of propriety, my waistline. So I say to you Arby’s, “I quit you! Not even if you offered to supersize me would I take you back. I will not take that dangerous chance of falling from so much grace as from the slippery slope of the veritable potato cake cliff.”

Goodbye Arby’s it was swell while it lasted. But I don’t know you anymore.

I thought you were different.

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