As a nice follow-up to my post about the Taco Bell/PBR/Moulin Rouge trifecta, I got an e-mail from Jason of the Phinney Ridge Tens about his uncontrollable addiction to making a run for the border. This is not your average fast food fancy. Jason likes Taco Bell so much that he refers to his feelings as his “love canal.” He says:
I have been a patron at Taco Bell over five times in the month of April. Four of them were in the restaurant itself… I wasn’t in a hurry. I could have made a salad, I could have cooked a meal, I had time. Instead, I went miles out of my way to bust into a lukewarm double decker taco like a squirrel cracking open a nut.
For Jason, Taco Bell is the ultimate comfort food. He reminisces about his childhood, when Taco Bell was a special treat for his family on the weekends. I can completely relate to this, as my family had a similar routine when I was very young. But his shame washes over him when he imagines what others must think:
To the outside world, one where people actually respect their digestive systems, my Taco Bell consumption comes across as disgusting? Unnecessary? Sad?
I’ve hidden my love of this establishment from girlfriends, best friends,
roommates. The circle of shame has spiraled into a web of lies. I
throw away Taco Bell wrappers in my neighbor’s trash can, I eat my
burritos in the privacy of my bedroom, or as it’s known for those
brief 12 or so minutes of Taco Bell sponsored heaven…my shame-ber.
Jason, I know you are not alone! Can anyone else admit to loving Taco Bell this much?
The Shame-ber 
