It doesn't. I know it doesn't.
All I can see now are two people going at it like dogs, while one of them is paying close attention to their Fitbit.
When I was a kid, we rarely ate out. A special treat was, once every few months, we'd all pile in the car and drive to the closest McD's, on the west side of Hamilton, which was about 30 minutes from our house.
My mom, my dad, and my sister would ride in the front, and us five boys would ride in the back. No seatbelts in those days.
We'd get to McD's, and my dad would park in the far corner of the lot, maybe under a tree, and he'd send Mom in with my sister to get the food, while we all sat in the car. We never got asked what we wanted, we just waited.
Soon, Mom and Sis would come back, carrying drink holders and sacks of food. Dad always got a Big Mac, because I remember thinking what a spectacular thing it looked like, compared to the puny regular hamburgers the rest of us got.
Anyway, Mom would hand my dad his food, she'd get a burger and little packet of fries out for my sister, and the same for herself, and set the drinks up on the dashboard. Cars back then had dashboards like kitchen tables.
Did us boys get that treatment? Hell no. At that point, we'd all be percolating in the back seat, wanting our food, and the best Mom could do was to just throw a couple of bags back and leave us to it.
Those cars also had big back windows, and I developed the strategy, being the youngest and smallest, of grabbing what food I could, climbing up into the back window, and fending off my brothers with kicks while I gorged on fries.
I think it's where I developed the habit (that I have to this day) of never drinking anything while I eat, because there was no way my mom was going to introduce sticky pops into that mess - we had to wait until we were done eating and relatively settled down before she'd hand us back our drinks.