Ode to a Burger

I am a burger girl.

I know a good many avocado toast girls. They have althleisure down pat. They don’t like cats. Avocado toast girls also drink green juice because they like it, not because it looks good in an Instagram. Avocado toast girls know the proper times to emote. I aspire to be an avocado toast girl.

Then there are pizza girls. See also: mayonnaise and Diet Coke girls. A pizza girl is sarcastic and self deprecating, but not in the weird way that makes people feel uncomfortable. A pizza girl is street smart and owns lots of “cute tops.” She has lots of best friends.

A Caesar salad girl is socially liberal but fiscally conservative. She hates hot dogs and culottes. Caesar salad girls love cruises and are great with directions. She flirts effortlessly but needs to be in her own bed by 11 p.m. Caesar salad girls are cool.

But I am a burger girl. I look like a stuffed sausage in athleisure. I love cats and culottes. Green juice is gross, and I hate diet coke. I make people feel uncomfortable with my self-deprecating jokes, and I don’t own any “cute tops.” Burger girls are kind of messy – her emotions overflow like the number of toppings allowed on a Five Guys double patty. She likes frivolities, especially sweet potato fries and honey mustard. A burger girl can’t keep secrets, but she can keep friendships. I am a burger girl.

**The above burger is the Branded Burger (maple-glazed bacon, blue cheese bourbon sauce, lettuce, tomato, house pickles) from Branded Saloon in Prospect Heights, Brooklyn. 3.5/5 stars.