I eat pizza on Thanksgiving…

Who cares, right? Apparently many people do.

In the days following each Thanksgiving, I often find myself in the usual post-holiday conversational social banter with friend and co-workers. While most bragged about big meals with family, traditions, travel and so forth, here’s how my interactions usually go.

Them: How was your Thanksgiving?

Me:  Fine

Them: Did you do anything?

Me: Nope. Just sat home with my dog…

Them: Oh, that’s sad. Did you eat turkey at least?

Me: Nope. I made a pizza.

It’s about that point in the conversation where everyone I’ve said that to would just stare blankly at me before asking “why didn’t you eat turkey? It’s Thanksgiving!”  

I’ve been told many times, by many people, that I’m weird (like I’ve never heard that before).

I’m looked at like I’m a mutant who violated some horrific moral code.

How dare I do something so offensive?

I didn’t feel guilty for eating pizza, but others do everything in their power to make me think I’m doing something wrong. What’s truly sad is I feel obligated to explain myself, seeking ways to justify my behavior.

Them: Why would you eat pizza, that’s just not normal.

Me: I wanted pizza.

Them:  Yeah, but its Thanksgiving. Eating turkey is what you do.

Me: It’s not what I do…

I had one person explain the concept of Thanksgiving to me (almost yelling at me), telling me I’m supposed to eat turkey, because it’s tradition. I know most people do eat turkey on Thanksgiving, but I don’t care what they do…

My tradition is eating a pizza.


Because I want to.

I’m thankful for many things, but eating a dead bird doesn’t define my values, nor does it define how grateful I am for what I have in my life.

I’ll probably eat pizza next year on Thanksgiving too. And Christmas, and my birthday and Easter and whenever else I please.

Because I can.

~ Marty ~