Thursday, November 25, 2010
I go so far as to shut my bedroom door while the thing is in the oven because I don’t like my bedroom to smell like turkey when I go to bed at night.
I think, in previous years, I’ve missed this revelation because I’ve drowned my turkey in gravy. Well, not this calorie-counting holiday. Gravy costs too much. I didn’t make myself go to the Y to work out on Thanksgiving morning in the freezing cold just to eat four thousand calories in one tablespoon. Turkey covered in mashed turnips just doesn’t quite cut it.
So, today, this is what I decided: I am an adult. I don’t have to eat turkey at Thanksgiving just because the pilgrims did or just because that’s what my guests are expecting to be served. I don’t have to eat turkey because it’s good for me or low in calories. I am an adult and I can decide I don’t like turkey if I want. Well, I don’t like turkey.
I will continue to cook turkey for holiday meals (and shut my bedroom door) so my family doesn’t organize a revolt or strap me up and send me to the funny farm. But, I will also cook a ham and that’s what I’ll be eating.