Glad Thanksgiving’s over

Every now and then, I feel like an alien, especially when I’m surrounded by these humans obsessed with Thanksgiving food. In America, we have this holiday called Thanksgiving. Supposedly, it’s based on some myth of pilgrims and native Americans sharing a meal together in a harsh winter and getting along for a short bit before the pilgrims started taking over all the land and massacring or exiling the native Americans. From that, we’re supposed to give thanks. Really, though, it’s about the food.

And that’s why I feel like an alien.

Last week, I was surrounded by co-workers and friends practically drooling as they thought about and got prepared to eat turkey, stuffing, mashed potatoes, and gravy. Meanwhile, I shrugged my shoulders and thought about how it’s good having a few days off from work. Mashed potatoes are okay. I can do without the gravy and all the other stuff.

Now, after Thanksgiving weekend is over, I can finally give thanks for no longer feeling like an alien. Life goes on, and I’m not bombarded with people talking endlessly about food I find disgusting.


  1. I don’t much care for the food either; meat/fruit/vegetables are about the only things I can eat due to IBS, and turkey has to be my least favorite meat.

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