Here comes Thanksgiving, like it or not, where you are forced around family you haven’t seen in awhile, like them or not, and eat copious amounts of fattening food, whether you like the taste or not. I had a few thoughts related thereto:
Inevitably, you’ll be asked by your Aunt Edna, “so, are you dating anyone.” If you don’t have a significant other at the time, everyone assumes you’ll be alone forever and there is a zero chance for you to have progeny they can “ooooh” and “aaaah” over until THOSE kids grow up and they can ask them, “so, are you dating anyone.” Endless cycle. Rinse. Repeat. To shut them up, here’s what you should say in response:
Relative: So, are you dating anyone?
You: Nah. Ya know, honestly, my first wife/husband is probably still in high school right now.
Drop the mic. Conversation over.
Friendsgiving(s), while fun, quickly wears out Thanksgiving food. So, when you enter the depths of your family gathering, you just aren’t in the mood for [insert ingredient] casserole. This often makes your family ask, “are you not hungry, are you sick?” Then you explain that you’ve had this food a lot lately (often times better tasting than your family’s food — millennials can follow damn google directions, that’s for sure).
I strongly suggest competing in a Turkey Trot or some other seasons 5K the morning of for two reasons. First, it feels good to get up and exercise (assuming you’re able to shake off the Wednesday-night-before-Thanksgiving hangover/didn’t bang your high school significant other resulting in paralyzing regret). Second, you can shamelessly gorge yourself on food and feel semi-good about it because you’ve already exercised. Now, this usually still results in weight gain — math dictates that burning 300 calories in a 5K doesn’t outweigh the 3000 you’ll consume that evening. But it just makes ya feel good, ya know?
The Racist Relative:
Everyone old in the South is semi-racist. And when they’re around the other family members, the wine or whiskey is flowing, those bits of racist ethos tend to creep up to the surface. Politics too. Like a pace and space team playing the Grizzlies, it’s easy to get dragged into the mud. Don’t do it. Keep a Jedi-esque, calm and collected mind-set. Politics lead to race, race leads to hate, hate leads to . . . awkward admissions that you actually liked Obama as a President and don’t mind being taxed a little more.
Godspeed, BarnBurner readers. May your holidays be fun, and despite my cynical post, may you have a happy Thanksgiving!