A friend of mine was saying, “No one seems very thankful around Thanksgiving. Everyone just seems grumpy. Maybe it’s a bad holiday. Maybe it’s got this negativity because the settlers ate dinner with the Native Americans and then killed them all. Bad vibes.”
“Also,” I said, “It’s not really a harvest festival, because everything’s already gone. Like, the vegetables in the grocery store are already starting to get mealy.”
I’ve been eating a lot of butternut squash. Which is not mealy. I’m gonna stop talking about harvesting and vegetable growing, because I really don’t know what I’m talking about.
But when I thought about it, I liked the idea of trying to think about what I’m thankful for. But I wanted to think of some of the non-obvious stuff, because that’s more of a challenge (note: I’mfirstlythankfulformyfamilyandBearandmyfriendsandbeingabletowritealotandbeinghealthyandthepeopleIlovebeing,forthemostpart,healthy. There). Ready? Here goes:
I’m thankful for the occasional juicy pimple. They are really fun to pop.
I’m thankful for not getting into that grad school that I thought was the only school for me, even though I sat on the floor by my bed and cried for two days when I got that rejection letter and wrote a sad song on guitar even though I’m bad at playing guitar just because I literally couldn’t get up and go to the keyboard. Because if I had gone to that school, I wouldn’t have come to NYC and I wouldn’t have met Bear. And I wouldn’t be living between two enormous bridges on a cobblestoned street in Brooklyn.
I’m thankful for gaining some weight from when I used to be skinny, because it’s made me think differently about beauty.
I’m thankful for pizza, because it is consistently good. It almost never lets me down.
I’m thankful for this one pair of jeans I have, because they usually look good when nothing else does.
And tweezers because I can’t pull hairs out with my fingers no matter how hard I try and sometimes I get two, exactly two, serious hairs on my chin, and it makes me feel like I’m a freak who is turning into a werewolf, and then I feel like everything is OK after I pull them out.
And those pens with the wet-for-just-second, velvety black ink that you don’t have to work to push into the page.
And my big nose that makes my face difficult and irrevocably different from the face that lovely women are supposed to have. So that I have to look like myself. And so that I have to be even more myself, because there aren’t as many examples of what else to be. And because there is a chance that I am beautiful in a really interesting way. And there is a chance that I will never be very beautiful, but I’ll get to write a lot of essays about it and I’ll become a better writer.
I am thankful for boots with heels. They are cute.
I am thankful for learning more and more that everyone is insecure.
I am thankful for not being depressed now the way I was really recently. But I want to write about that later and not even think about it now because I’m so relieved.
I am thankful for no longer living in a building with a scary super.
I am thankful for cheese.
(yes! yes! yes! source)
And for those slightly bendy spatulas.
And lab-produced insulin, which keeps way too many people I love alive.
And for my fingers, which are typing these words as I think them. My body is cool.
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This is a little corny, but I’m thankful for you guys. Happy Thanksgiving, American readers! Everyone else– hope you have a good Thursday tomorrow! What’s a weird thing you’re thankful for? Or, you know, a regular thing? I’d love to read about it.
Unroast: Today I love my shoulders. Square, sturdy. Like a dude’s. But not really.
New cake pics!! Yay!!! Keep ‘em coming!
She actually baked that. So much respect.