How often do you eat at McDonalds?

[politicat]

57. I can't.

It's triggery for me.

My father loved the great golden teats of America, so every road trip required several stops at the arches until we reached White Castle territory. (no shit, the man planned our itineraries around White Castle.)

Problem 1: I get amazingly car sick. My best bet if I'm not driving is to OD on Dramamine and not wake up for 24 hours. My second best bet is a reasonable amount of Dramamine and consume only cold or cool Coca-Cola for that 24 hours, while listening to music on headphones and keeping eyes closed, with lots of very cold AC blowing as close to on my face as possible.

Problem 2: my father doesn't believe in car sickness, despite the many times I yakked on the seats, paint, or side of the road. He thinks it's all mind over matter. (Despite being a Naval officer, who knows sea-sickness is a real thing.) So at best, I got one Dram.

Problem 3: My father is a fscking asshole. His idea of entertainment while making long road trips is driving aggressively, swerving in the lane, and refused to use the car's AC, claiming it was a drain on mileage. (Bullshit. 4 wheel 65 mph creates FAR more drag, even on 1980s shitboxes. I learned algebra for the entire purpose of proving this when I was 13. Didn't help.) If he'd decided to be pissed with me -- and since I dreaded road trips like a sinner dreads hell, I usually succeeded in pissing him off -- then I wouldn't get Dramamine and he would swerve more. And he would usually pick a fight with my mother, so as to make the experience ALL the more fun. Truly, when I say fscking asshole, I have a deep bench as a standard of comparison.

Problem 4: since my father didn't believe in car sickness, nor in my very real distress, and also believed that children should eat the food put in front of them, I've tasted more of that shit coming up than I care to recall. When he was really feeling sadistic, he would insist I eat an adult sized meal (the big coke was a good thing) on the principle that I needed more food so that I'd get at least a few calories before I yakked. I eventually figured out the bulimic trick of just getting the inevitable over before we were back on the road.

The smell of McD's nauseates me. I've stopped shopping at more places because they either have a D's in the parking lot or attached to the store. I cannot. There is nothing that can make me eat that.

*where was my mother? In this same abusive relationship. So yeah, enabling happened. Some fights were just not worth having, and the fights most not worth having were the ones when we'd all be stuck together in a contained space for a minimum of two weeks.