The Delusion That We'll Eat Healthy Again Starting Monday

There is something magical that happens after Thanksgiving dinner. Not magical in a spiritual way. Magical in the sense that people suddenly believe Monday is a mythical day where all bad habits disappear, vegetables become irresistible, and the human body starts craving salads for the first time in recorded history.

This delusion appears at the exact moment someone reaches for their third slice of pie. The fork pauses mid-air, the brain flickers, and a soft internal voice says, "It's fine. Monday."

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Monday becomes a character. A hero. A savior. A powerful entity that will swoop in and fix your life like a free trial of discipline.

It does not matter that Monday has failed you every week since childhood. Thanksgiving resets the clock. On Thursday night, everyone suddenly believes that Monday is the reset button that will cleanse them emotionally, spiritually, and gastrointestinally.

People walk around after dessert announcing their plans like campaign promises. "I'm going to hydrate." "I'm cutting out sugar." "I'm doing a green smoothie thing." "I'm starting yoga again." "I'm buying a salad spinner." No one knows what a salad spinner actually does. But it sounds healthy.

Friday arrives. No one starts. Saturday arrives. No one starts. Sunday arrives. You open the fridge and see leftovers stacked like edible responsibilities.

This is when reality cracks.

You stare at a container of stuffing. It stares back. You consider eating an apple. The stuffing laughs at you. "Come on," it says without speaking. "You know you want another round."

People experience what I call the Thanksgiving Leftover Morality Crisis. You want to be healthy. But you also know someone spent three hours making that pie. You cannot betray them. That would be disrespectful. Possibly unpatriotic.

There is always one person who tries to start early. Someone announces, "I'm eating a salad today," and immediately becomes a villain. The rest of the family looks at them with betrayal. A salad? During Thanksgiving weekend? Who raised you? The dog watches in confusion.

But Monday approaches. The fantasy grows stronger. You tell yourself this time is different. You can feel it. You are ready. You rehearse it mentally. You prepare your emotional speech. "I'm committed now." "This is a new chapter." "I'm doing it for my health." "No more late-night snacking."

Monday finally arrives.

You wake up. Stretch. Feel refreshed. You open the fridge and hear a choir of leftovers sing a seductive hymn. The stuffing glows. The mashed potatoes wink. The turkey fans itself like a southern belle. The pie sits smugly in the corner, knowing exactly what it has done.

You think, "One more day won't hurt."

Monday collapses instantly.

This is the tragic cycle of Thanksgiving health promises. You postpone your goals until Tuesday. Then Wednesday. Then the next Monday. Then January. Then "after the holidays," which is a vague phrase that stretches into infinity.

The truth is simple. Thanksgiving is temporary. Leftovers are temporary. Your body will recover.

But the delusion that you will magically turn into a kale-loving fitness guru overnight? That is permanent.

And honestly, it makes the holiday more fun. Just let yourself be gravy for a few days.