I honestly hope that everyone has a great Thanksgiving, but I guess that’s not true because I don’t hope it for myself. I’m not like Chandler from Friends who always hates Thanksgiving because bad things always seem to happen to him every year on that day. And I’m not like the Grinch who stole Christmas because, really, I don’t think I’m that bitter.
Did I ever mention the fact that I am an extremely picky-eater?
Once again, allow me to convey the message of this particular holiday: We are thankful. Therefore, we as one giant group of friends and family are going to celebrate the things we are thankful for by participating in a giant feast which may include a very large bird, a juicy pig, a very large bowl of seasoned mashed potatoes, and a pot brimmed with gravy–key to the happiness of all appetites. Well… most appetites.
List of foods I do not enjoy eating:
-mashed potatoes, (unless they are made by my Dad)
-most deli meats
-etc. etc. etc.
I am not a vegitarian. In fact, I enjoy a fishstick every now and again. But most foods do not appeal to me and so I do my best to avoid them at all costs. I am the same way with drinks. No root beer, no egg nog, and cranberry juice or combinations of it with something else.
So imagine me sitting at a very large dinner table, or the pushing-together of two very large dinner tables, to engage in a fantastic meal representing my thankfulness, but knowing I’ll be miserable later, feeling like that girl from Charlie and the Chocolate Factory when she becomes a giant blueberry and has to be rolled away to be “juiced.” Yes, I’ll eat, but only because I have a tremendous amount of guilt weighing down heavily on my shoulders.
“You haven’t touched your turkey, Carly. Does it taste ok?”
“Oh yes, it’s delicious. I guess I’m just not very hungry.”
“Oh… ok… I’m sorry.”
“Oh don’t be sorry, *name of this year’s cook here*. I just don’t feel well.”
So I am left feeling this shame. Apparently, I’ve accused the cook of being a bad cook because I didn’t eat their delicious turkey–which it is! It’s delicious! I just can’t eat very much of it! A small slice of turkey breast and three bites of my mashed potatoes and I’m ready to roll over and die.
Although, there is one thing that I can drool over all year round but only see on this particular Thanksgiving Day:
However, if I filled my plate with only stuffing, what would the remainder of guests think of me? Do I care? Kind of… I’m not sure why. I guess I don’t want them to think that I’m pickier than their three-year-old child sitting at the kiddy table fully enjoying his or her cut up pieces of turkey and honey-ham with a side of cranberry sauce and mashed potatoes, drenched in sweet sweet gravy. Run-on sentence? Yes it is, but I don’t feel like re-writing it, so just go back to where I began with “I guess I don’t want them…” and really concentrate.
Think of what stuffing is made out of and what it feels like in one’s mouth. It’s bread-like, fluffy, soft, and filling. It reminds me of soup. And I love soup.