I ate McDonalds yesterday with the Worship Arts intern and immediately regretted doing so. The hangout time was great and all, but the sodium in the fries actually turned most of the water in my body into the salty equivalent of the open seas. I won’t even mention the irony of eating a healthy grilled chicken sandwich and chasing it down with a couplea cheeseburgers. D’oh.

The results were instantaneous. I’m up 3 pounds today. Woo hoo? Here’s what I know: weight loss is no mystery. If I eat a bunch of stuff and don’t exercise, I gain weight. It’s like pulling a lever from the “eat whatever” position to “eat carefully and sweat on purpose” position. Losing weight is a very simple looking equation that is quite difficult to actually understand, kinda like E=MC2. In this case, WL=EL2 (Weight Loss equals Eating Less, squared).

I don’t want to blame Ronald McDonald for my own decisions. I’m no Morgan Spurlock, but I do think that their food is so delicious that I just gotta have some. Gimmie them nuggets. Gimmie that chipotle sauce. And, please, supersize everything, even the saucebuckets. Charge extra, I don’t care. Would someone please throw me a napkin? I need something to absorb this sweet ‘n’ sour I just got on my tux.

What’s wrong with me? First, I made a decision that I knew I would regret. I was fully aware of the consequences and did it anyway (sin works this way too). Second, why am I wearing a tuxedo to McDonalds? It’s not like they have a maitre d’. No, friend, that’s just a statue of Grimace.

Oh well. Today is a new day. Let’s revel in that instead, shall we?