On Thanksgiving, don’t feel guilty when you’re as stuffed as the turkey.
The large brown table is topped with a beige tablecloth and 10 stylish white plates.
I’m more fixated on what’s on those plates. Roasted turkey. Mashed potatoes. Rolls. Gravy boats. Green beans. Homemade dressing. Apple pie.
We pray. I give thanks for the tsunami of calories about to enter my body.
My plate is piled high. There’s not enough room for even one more green bean. Then, as I’m about to dig in, Aunt Sally asks the stupidest question in the history of Thanksgiving get-togethers.
“James, a big guy like you doesn’t need that much food. Are you really going to be able to eat all that?”
Say what? Who in the hell does Aunt Sally think she’s talking to? My photograph graces the wall of Eduardo’s Lokos Tacos in Tavares for being one of three people to successfully consume a 6-pound burrito in under 25 minutes. I’m the guy who pulls out a sticky note at Subway and pretends that the second sandwich I’m ordering isn’t for me. I cannot pull through McDonald’s without uttering the word “supersize,” and local waitresses know me as the guy who orders his cheeseburgers triple sized.
Aunt Sally needs to work on table manners. I need to work on wardrobe selection. I was hoping the XXL pants and shirt I wear only on Thanksgiving would hide my basketball-sized belly. Unfortunately, nothing gets past Aunt Sally.
But back to her ridiculous question. Yes, I’m going to be able to eat all that. After all, this is Thanksgiving, a once-a-year-feast. Then I’m going to have seconds. And most likely thirds and fourths.
No, I’m not proud of my appetite. Yes, I most certainly need to lose weight.
But that sure as heck isn’t going to happen on Thanksgiving Day. Nor should it. Let me try to convey some logic here. There are 365 days in a year, and most people eat three meals a day. That computes to 1,095 meals each year. Does it make any sense that one of those meals has a disproportionate impact on my health and well-being? Plus, we have 364 days between Thanksgiving meals to exercise and work off those calories.
Simply put, holiday food isn’t the enemy we’ve made it out to be. So, for this one day, follow my example. Be merry and indulge. Load up on those mashed potatoes. Cut yourself a few more slices of turkey. Have a piece of pie and cake. Lay back in your recliner and drink a few beers while the Detroit Lions are being pummeled on television. Then pass out and take a super-long nap.
Most of us probably have an Aunt Sally, that one ignoramus who can’t help questioning our eating habits on Thanksgiving, a day where we… well… eat.
Do what I did. Put Aunt Sally on ignore. Then enjoy Thanksgiving for what it was designed for.
Eating hearty, being thankful.
And once Aunt Sally leaves, be thankful and eat hearty again.