no thanks, no

It’s been just a few days over a month since I returned from Japan and all is back to normal except for one thing: I still can’t stomach the quintissential American food - the fat, greasy burgers of any mom and pop’s diner or their fast food or homemade counterparts.

Grease-dripping pizza is okay, breakfast sausages are no problem. But sit me in front of a cheeseburger platter with french fries and I balk. I’ll nibble the pickle while contemplating whether or not I will throw up if I take a bite. Eventually, hunger and the guilt of a rejecting a meal prepared for me will force me to choke down half. Thirty minutes later you will find me in the bathroom.

I don’t know if it’s the grease, the massive hunk of meatness, or just a psychological abhorrance to the food I see giant, tub-shaped people stuffing in their mouths, but I just can’t seem to eat beef in the burger state. In Japan I had no problem enjoying large amounts of lean slices of meat; I loved it. In addition, I often yearned for a juicy American cheeseburger when presented with a dry Australian patty on a bun.

It seems that two years in Japan has re-trained my stomach, however, and now I can’t handle even the thought of a thick burger. Even typing this has made me slightly sick to my stomach. What a shame.