Some fast food is gross in ways that prevent me from
ingesting it but I get truly excited for In and Out Burger—like I used to get
excited about ice cream cones.  Butterflies
in my stomach erupt into a mad flutter on my way to the restaurant. Once I walk
through the doors I can feel a warm smile shift to my belly that even the
greasy floor can’t slip up.  My stomach
feels happy with just the sight of a worker in a white-held-together-by-oversized-safety
pin-apron who is carelessly placing potatoes in the slicer (aka French Fry
Maker).  I’m going to eat you soon I whisper to my little potato sliver
friends soaking in a water bath on the other side of the counter.  In and Out Burger is good fast food.

A good fry is always worth the calories. I’ve maintained a
long-standing love affair with French fries. 
They have been a part of my life ever since I can remember and they have
always been there for me. And nothing could come between me and my fries, not
even ketchup. So when my dad, uncle, and I visited In and Out Burger today, I
proudly announced I didn’t have to waste time at the ketchup pump filling 1-ply
paper cups.  I asked if my dad and uncle
needed ketchup though… both said a definitive no.  And that was that. 
I am my father’s daughter. 
I am my uncle’s niece. 
Within 10 minutes of my dad and uncle picking me up from LAX
2 days ago, I began to worry.  Would a
week hanging with my dad and his brother turn me into them?  The ketchup incident sealed my fate.  I have never met anyone who despises ketchup
on fries as much as I do, until today. No amount of intentionality or cognitive
behavioral therapy would keep me from the DNA that has already built me. 
I have to admit—this front row seat to my family the past
couple days gives me both a sense of hope and concern. Sometimes my family is
all starting from the same common beautiful language and we’re the only ones
who know all of the words.  And other
times, I feel like I’m speaking my own language and I’m screaming but no one
around me can hear any sound. 
It’s been a learning process.  I learned I have come from a generous
family—one that goes out of their way to include and love all people, except
for jerks.  I haven’t seen anyone in my
family love jerks.  I come from
smart-cynical-get-stuff-done-contribute-to-society kind of people.  I also come from
bury-your-feelings-don’t-confront-protect-yourself kind of people.  It’s been a healthy realization of who I have
come from and it keeps me grounded.  I
love my ketchup-apathetic dad and uncle. 
And I love becoming my own person.