Stacking up to the Triple Stacker

By Sarah Lipman

Slipping out of a mini-skirt and snug-fitting tee, I try to focus and collect myself. I have not taken on a task this great since age 6. I step into elastic-waist pants and an oversized t-shirt, hiding my tiny build. I’ll need all the room I can get after this conquest.

A lot of preparation has gone into today — I haven’t eaten a thing, for starters. I just couldn’t, knowing that I was about to encounter one of my greatest enemies.

The cheeseburger. But this was not just any cheeseburger — oh no, this was much more. It was a BK Triple Stacker from Burger King.

All day, I received best wishes and tips on how to deal with such a massive undertaking. When on the phone with my mother, she warned: “Eat it slow, take small bites, and if by any means you start to feel sick — STOP. Don’t do anything you can’t handle or you will get some sort of foreign red-meat overdose.”

Just what I need, death by Burger King.

As a self-proclaimed “semi-vegetarian,” eating only chicken and fish, the idea of layering three burger patties, each topped with cheese and bacon is completely repulsive and incredibly unhealthy — there isn’t even a pickle on top to provide some semblance of a vegetable. Add on the Coca-Cola and French-fries from the value meal and it’s just a heart attack waiting to happen.

According to the Burger King website, such a meal is 1360 calories, 800 of which come from the BK Triple Stacker alone.

Walking up to the counter, there is no turning back now as I hear: “Welcome to Burger King, can I take your order?”

Slowly, I try to back away. Junior Mike LoRé, a seasoned veteran in consuming the BK Quad Stacker and in on my adventure for moral support, takes charge.

“We’ll have a BK Quad Stacker value meal and a BK Triple Stacker value meal,” LoRé says.

Sitting down, I look at the mound meat between the buns in front of me on the table. It stares back, and I have to turn in the other direction.

“Just do it,” LoRé says as he stretches, snaps the waist of his “Thanksgiving pants,” and digs in. Way to be there for the moral support.

I look back down at the burger and grasp my hands around it. I wonder how this much meat is going to fit into my mouth. More importantly, I wonder how I am going to be able to put myself through more than just one bite. Opening my mouth, my gag reflex starts almost immediately — just the mere smell and thought of it is triggering nausea.

Staring at the BK Triple Stacker, I try to plan my method of attack.

“I don’t know where to start,” I say. “If I get it from this side, I can avoid the burgers for at least a bite and just get cheese and bun. But if I go this way, I can avoid the bacon almost all together ‘cause it’ll fall off.”

Finally I realize, no matter what strategy I take, I will eventually encounter the enemy. Suck it up, I tell myself, shutting my eyes tight and biting into the heart attack on a bun.

Chewing slowly, I can feel my face turning flushed with heat and my stomach already churning. I knew I did not like red meat for a reason.

Slowly but surely, the three cheeseburgers on one bun with six slices of bacon disappears — all 800 calories of it. Moving onto my fries, I feel like I am on a fast food high. Nothing can stop me now.

That all changes, however, once we get in the car to head back. I can barely move, sure that I will be sick any moment. It’s like Thanksgiving almost two months early, and I remember how grateful I am that I put on my sweats for this endeavor.

Although I’m feeling proud of the “real world red-meat challenge” I have accomplished — it has also worn me out for the night — leaving me on my side, in my bed just waiting for digestion to run its course…eventually.