Dear Fat Girl Platter,
I feel that it is time we broke up.
I know. I'm sad, too.
But the truth is, you're far too delicious. My ass expands from my love for you. Or no, that might just be from your ludicrous fat content. But either way... Our late night dates will surely be missed.
When the waitress automatically knows that I want you, and she even knows my nickname for you, well... that tells me I have a problem. A Fat Girl problem.
And so, this must end. I won't be visiting, not for awhile. I need some time to get over you, and maybe to lose a couple of the pounds you packed on me. Please don't try to contact me; it's better this way.
Give the mozza sticks my regrets.
Big Macs... you're next.