Every week, Healthyish editor Amanda Shapiro talks about what she's seeing, eating, watching, and reading in the wellness world and beyond. Pro tip: If you sign up for the newsletter, you'll get the scoop before everyone else.
We have a “don’t yuck my yum” policy here at Bon Appétit, which means we don’t tell people that a thing they love—food or otherwise—is gross. (Though did you see Andy’s face when Brad says “pink peppercorns”?) And nothing would be more of a “yuck” than admitting that I don’t like Thanksgiving, which is why I generally keep my mouth shut around the office this time of year. But this is my newsletter; therefore I’d like to explain my feelings just a little bit.
I don’t like celebrating excess—eating, drinking, spending, colonialism—all things that this week has come to represent. I’ve always felt that way (ask my family about the time I refused to come out of my room for dinner), but this year I’m trying to have a better attitude, to do as the Hallmark cards say and focus on the “giving thanks” part of things.
My Virgo nature loves nothing more than an arbitrary challenge, so I decided I’d send three unconventional thank yous out to the universe: no family members, friends, or co-workers (though I love you all), only people who it felt a little awkward to reach out to but who I felt an honest desire to thank.
First I emailed the broker who helped me get my apartment last spring. I told him how desperately I’d wanted the place and that I truly think that living there has changed my life. He wrote back, basically acknowledging that I’d been a total mess when we met and saying he was glad he could help.
Then I texted an ex-boyfriend from years back, who probably doesn’t even realize it’s Thanksgiving because he’s Canadian, and thanked him for acting like a kid with me well into our twenties, for splurging on motel rooms with jacuzzis, and for very patiently trying to teach me guitar. He hasn’t responded and maybe he never will, and I’m okay with that.
I haven’t decided who my third thank you will be, but I’ll let you know when I figure it out. In the meantime, I’m with staff writer Alex Beggs: enough with the turkey burn workouts. Instead I’ll be jamming to jammers, unsubscribing to marketing emails (my annual purge), and awaiting my mother’s instructions with apron strings tied tight.
Until next week,
Originally Appeared on Bon Appétit