The 8 Stages of Thanksgiving Gluttony

Listen, people afraid of putting on multiple pounds in a solitary day: It's Thanksgiving. A day literally dedicated to eating... and being thankful for things such as food. It's not as if you eat like this all year long. It's just one day when we're all allowed to bask and indulge in culinary delights without anyone, or at least most people, judging us for it. Diets, restrictions, self-discipline, those things are simply for another day... sometime in the distant future. Because what's the point of slowing down when Christmas eating is also on the horizon, am I right? I don't why I even asked, of course I'm right... I'm always right. About food, at least.

So, on this special day of marathon eating and a lot less breathing, the hunger and subsequent gluttony comes in stages. Not because of any sort of self-restraint, but because we unfortunately have things called "courses" which goes against all of our true animalisitc impulses, but whatever. We have to looks sort of respectable in front of Grandpa, I guess, and maybe for Aunt Cindy, too. So, in order to better exact your gluttonous impulses, the food intake and your body's rejection of said eating, goes a little something like this...

STAGE ONE: PROLONGING THE RABID HUNGER

You're not starving, literally. But you're certainly starving metaphorically and dinner is hours away. And you know what a whole bunch of hours adds up to eventually? A day. Dinner is basically a day away.

You think this is what the Donner Party must've felt like.

STAGE TWO: EYES ON THE PRIZE

You didn't eat breakfast or lunch. Everything is out on the table, steaming, wafting wonderful, sinful scents in your poor, deprived nostrils. But you're hangrier than you've ever been and Cousin James is late and you can't start eating until he arrives.

You can't be held responsible for Cousin James's subsequent murder, can you? You're pretty sure a self-defense argument would hold up in court.

STAGE THREE: DIGGING IN

Sweet mercy, the first bite of mashed potatoes crosses your lips and you're almost certain you won't be this happy, not even on the day of the birth of your first child.

You know why? Because your first born won't be covered in gravy and saturated in butter, that's why.

STAGE FOUR: FEEDING FRENZY

It's sort of like when you see a shark go ham on an unsuspecting seal. Or, when you got really obliterated in college and would black out and have no recollection of the unspeakable things you did while under the influence...

Like, you're fairly certain you may have just growled at your dog, but you can't be sure of anything at this point.

All you know is that the stuffing never had a chance.

STAGE FIVE: FEELING FINE

Eating, eating, more eating. Pause for breathing, back to eating. Mom tells you to save room for dessert. And you know what you say back to mom? Nothing. You laugh in her doubting face.

STAGE SIX: REGRET SETS IN

Aunt Maggie notices you haven't touched her Brussels sprouts and we all know how sensitive Aunt Maggie is... and how much you HATE Brussels sprouts and yourself for not leaving one iota of space in your imploding stomach.

And of course, Dad won't let you insult her. So, the force feeding commences.

STAGE SEVEN: YOU'RE EIGHT MONTHS PREGNANT WITH A BEAUTIFUL BALL OF SORROW WHEN DESSERT IS BROUGHT OUT

And Grandma, the only person in the world who doesn't think you've had enough to eat, becomes an over assertive food pusher.

STAGE EIGHT: CHAOS ENSUES

And by chaos, I mean vomit.

Lots of vomit.

Images: TriStar Pictures; Giphy (11)