My Apologies to Thanksgiving

Brainstorming off of my creative nonfiction piece,  "Confessions of a Fat Girl", I've come up with a little segment in regards to Thanksgiving....


Thanksgiving: A day devoted to giving thanks--and eating. A day to gather with loved ones, friends and family alike--and eat. A day to watch football on TV, relax and kick back...oh, and eat.
  
Not this year, I said to myself, walking into my aunt's house last week. Clack, Clack went the new boots I had bought myself for achieving 50 pounds lost at the previous Sunday morning weigh-in. Hugs and greetings filled the air, along with the aroma of turkey, stuffing, and vegetables that was wafting off of the smorgasbord laid out on the kitchen counter.

Dad, now 86 pounds down, walked over to the counter, placing the handheld food scale next to the turkey. I smiled, thinking of how far we've both come since last year. He smiled at me, and kissed my cheek, as he went to help my stepbrother get a plate of food.

"Hey Kayla, you look fantastic!" my Uncle Lee said, hugging me in greeting.
"Thanks," I reply, reassuring myself that I could get through the day without guilty nibbling and stolen bites.

I measured out the turkey, measured a cup of mashed potatoes out, grabbed a glob of broccoli, and topped my plate of with a sliver of gravy and one mini-crescent roll. You are in control, I muttered to myself, sitting at the dining room table with my grandparents.

As soon as I was finished eating, I put my plate in the sink, and sat away from temptation, enjoying the company of my family. Yes, I really wanted a piece of ham, and of course I wanted more than one chocolate chip cookie--it was Thanksgiving, after all. But I held myself back, and realized that I had been abusing Thanksgiving my whole life, as a day just to eat, instead of using it as a day to truly enjoy being with my family, and being grateful for what matters most in my life.

So, my apologies, Thanksgiving.

Three days later, I stepped on the scale at Weight Watchers for my weekly weigh-in. I lost 7.2 pounds that week. Thinking back on it, if I would have snuck pieces of ham, more dessert, or second helpings, I wouldn't have felt near as satisfied as I felt knowing that I lost seven pounds in a week. 

So this year, I don't reflect back on how good the turkey tasted, or how creamy Dad's homemade mashed potatoes were, or how I can't wait to eat the honey-spiral ham on Christmas night; instead, I remember two things about Thanksgiving: how Landon (my two-year-old half brother) felt curled up asleep, cuddled to my side, and how my family laughed together playing games after dinner.

Because really, that's what the holidays are all about.