In my 25 years, I’ve only once not spent Thanksgiving with my family. And that one time was five years ago while I was studying abroad in Paris. Instead, the program organized a dinner for us out at a restaurant, where the waitstaff humored our tradition by bringing out a giant turkey on a platter, then promptly taking it away to carve and serve.
But that’s the only time. Until now.
Tomorrow we’ll fly out to LA to celebrate Thanksgiving with the boyfriend’s family and friends, and I’ll be meeting his brother and his mom for the first time. No pressure.
(I actually have a little boyfriend-approved gift for his brother that will either make him hate me, OR appreciate my sense of humor. I’ll let you know.)
So, of course I’ve been considering what to pack in order to make an appropriate first impression, and there’s one thing that’s throwing me for a loop: a warm Thanksgiving!
November is supposed to be chilly, and Philly has almost always stuck to that formula. Sweaters and jeans, or dresses and boots, or sweats and sweats (depending on what stage of the meal we’re in) have always been the norm. And when I was a child, my family and I always traveled to my grandparents’ home in upstate New York (think: just over the border from Canada) for this holiday, so I’m used to Thanksgivings looking like this:
You don’t worry about looking cute there; you worry about keeping warm and not getting lost in the drifts.
Not that I’m complaining about a warm holiday, mind you. I am most definitely looking forward to it. It’s just going to take a little more planning on how to hide the turkey bulge, when I don’t have all the sweater layers to work with.
Any suggestions? Because not indulging really isn’t an option.