My name is Marianne and I shop on Thanksgiving

(What you are about to experience may be called controversial. It may even go against everything you stand for. I understand this and am really glad I won’t have to fist fight you for a Cabbage Patch Kid at Target on Thursday. Keep your principles! Shop online instead!)

I don’t understand the hype around retail stores being open on Thanksgiving. I know. I’m a horrible person. But after calculating a few things, I realized I’ve been a horrible person most of my life. This makes me feel an enormous sense of well-being.

It all started that dark Thanksgiving Day in the early 90’s. My brother and I were a bit bored and decided to go to a movie. We kept people away from their families that day without a second thought. And we kept doing it. Year after year after year. It became, dare I say, a tradition. I realize now, that seemingly innocent act was actually the beginning of my downfall.

It multiplied that one Thanksgiving I ran out of nutmeg and ran to the store early in the morning. How could I serve a pumpkin pie without nutmeg? Now I realize how unfeeling this act of purchasing truly was.

Now I must admit I’m a bit perplexed why people who work retail are more deserving to stay home than those who work at grocery stores, movie theaters or gas stations. But for some reason it wasn’t until you could buy a big screen TV on Thanksgiving that an uproar was created.

Maybe it’s because movies aren’t commercial. They are made selflessly for the entertainment of the populous. I’m almost 98% certain the executives who earn the majority of the profits work on Thanksgiving to show camaraderie with the guy selling me $5 Jr Mints.

And grocery stores are obviously necessary. The thought of having to buy everything beforehand without a fail safe is simply barbaric. What if Aunt Sue and Uncle Sebastian show up and we run out of paper plates? I shiver to think of such a horror.

My horribleness accumulated and last year when I went shopping Thanksgiving night. Why? Because (as my prolific friend stated) it’s “that night of laughing, chasing, hunting, and forgetting reality and responsibility while you stand in line for s*** you don’t even want.” How can I say no to that?

Do I wish it would move back to midnight like it used to be? Sure I do.

Because then I could go to a movie.

But it’s not. So I try to bring joy to those I see during my meaningless shopping excursion. I let them know they have saved a life by coming in on the most hallowed of holidays based around food. Because if I have to listen to Aunt June tell me how amazing her children are one more time, someone is going to get hurt.

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