“Welcome to Moe’s!”

Normally, that phrase would launch me into an extremely happy orbit.  To hear it means I have entered that wonderful world of upscale Mexican fast food complete with football sized burritos and dishes named after pop-culture icons!  But not today.  Today it nearly brought me to tears.

You see I LOVE Mexican food!  And while I’m not a huge fan of weapon-sized burritos, I love Billy Barou Nachos.  Walking along picking out everything I want, leaving out what I don’t, is nacho heaven to me.  Yes, steak, black beans, & queso!  No shredded cheese & lettuce – it just wilts and ruins an otherwise perfect nacho experience.  At Moe’s I am in complete control!

My problem – today I can’t eat at Moe’s – not one thing.  I have some minor health issues, brought on by copious amounts of stress, which have to be addressed.  To address them I am under strict dietary limitations for 40 days.  In fact, the word strict seems such an understatement.  We’re talking strict on steroids!  If a comparison to parents were made, regular strict would apply to me.  But strict in the sense I am using it applies to oh say, something like a cross between a retired drill sergeant and Fidel Castro.

While my children ordered, I sat in a booth embarrassed that I was so upset by not getting to eat at Moe’s.  So I started thinking, why exactly was this bothering me so much?  There was only one answer – I think I should get to eat whatever I want whenever I want.  Growing up in a country where food is always plentiful and cheap this has become my norm.  It’s what I expect.  And within reason, it’s what I want.  (Disclaimer here:  As an avowed food snob I don’t expect to eat hot dogs, icky rubberized pieces of chicken or most anything from a drive thru window)

What a humbling experience!  Normally, I have no problem delaying gratification in other areas of my life.  Evidently, I do in this one.  I could try and blame it on the fact that we were visiting Nashville and since moving to North Dallas, I haven’t seen a Moe’s.  Or maybe, I could blame it on the fact that days of very plain, restricted food had me in a weak place.  But if I am honest, I admit the bottom line; I was upset because I couldn’t have what I wanted.

So, I had two options.  Chuck my hard work and give in to a huge plate of nachos or recognize that what I am working on right now is more important than food and it won’t last forever.  I chose the later, fantasized about the former, and looked up the nearest location of Moe’s for when I’m back to Dallas.  In a few weeks when starch is again allowed in my diet, I’ll make a drive and have a very different attitude as I walk through the door and hear, “Welcome to Moe’s!”

Holly Holladay