Thanksgiving – the beloved all-American holiday where the gluttons who gave the world Micky D’s sit around and shove mountains of fattening food down their throats. For the typical American, Thanksgiving is one of the greatest days of the year, but for us anorexics, it’s a day that we pray will never ever occur.
This year I was forced to go and visit my mother’s family which is a whopping 8 hours away. I had informed my parents multiple times that I would not be going with them and would instead be spending my “holiday” with the only individual who understands me – my 8 year old black lab. Though my therapist supported this plan saying it would be an excellent experience for me to be on my own for a few days, my parents didn’t care. Against my will, a suitcase was packed for me and I was thrown in the car like a piece of garbage. After 5 long hours (which should have only taken four), we arrived at a hotel somewhere in the suburbs of Chicago. The plan was we would stay overnight here and then drive up to Michigan to see my mom’s obnoxious and incredibly noisy family for the famous American “get fat” feast
So now that I am completely sleep-deprived after attempting to get some shut-eye on the hotel room’s rock hard coach, we will be cramming ourselves in my mom’s car and driving up to Michigan.
Dandy. Just f-cking dandy.