"Would you eat the moon if it was made of ribs?"...yes, and does it come with a choice of potato?

M speaking. Again.

I can honestly remember the first time I saw junk food. I was little, 5 or 6, perhaps. I was grocery shopping with my mom and I was turning the corner with my tiny shopping cart. At the end of the aisle, with the fluorescent lighting shining down on the staggering sight of none other than a Doritos, Fritos, Cheetos and Funyuns tower. It was my mecca, my own personal heaven. I booked it down the aisle, skirting past the displays of mac'n'cheese, applesauce, whole grains...you know, the "good stuff".

I ripped a plastic bag off the roll and began stuffing it with the snack-sized bags. I felt like Santa on Christmas Eve. I put in my cart and rolled up next to my mom. She looked down at me, rolled her eyes and continued shopping.

My life changed that day.

My body, as it seems to me right now, can only run on the cheese powder from Cheetos, the salty goodness of Fritos and the fake onion flavor of Funyuns. But that's not all.

My arteries are full of gravy, my spit tastes like mayo and when I cry, hydrogenated oil streams down my cheeks.

I am a walking, talking junk food ad.