You have a plate- we all do or will or had one. It's filled with a Thanksgiving dinner. Mash potatoes, corn, turkey, the works. Then out of the no where someone close to you throws yogurt on your plate- right in the middle. Not a little either. A huge pile of sloppy old yogurt.
How did yogurt get on your plate? It's Thanksgiving. You look beside you and someone is standing there- there is a leaked yogurt container in their bag. Why are they carrying this outdated yogurt? The person is freaking out- trying to save their bag, trying to save the yogurt. They threw what leaked out at you. That's how it got on your plate. For a moment, you try to understand: Why are they trying to save this old yogurt? Just throw it out. Hell throw out the bag.
You try to help.
Grab a trash bag. No, that doesn't work. They won't throw out the bag and container.
Grab a hose. NO, they're not ready to get rid of the yogurt. They're trying to put it back. You worry what the thrower will do if you try to wipe it out.
You don't know how to clean it and everyone tells you
they have to clean it alone. You're relieved because you really did not want to get near it. It's such a mess. But you love the thrower. You know despite what they're going through they came to eat.
So you make a plate for the thrower. Hold it in one hand and your own nasty plate in the other. You're barely balancing them both, but it's okay. They'll need to eat at some point and that’s reason enough.
I think people want to imagine that- like in the movies- that if we push ourselves we suddenly can have a bigger plate- take on more yogurt or whatever else gets thrown at us. We can take two plates. Three. Four. I believe that is partly true. We can push ourselves to take
more "yogurt" in any moment, but I don't think we can ever force our plate to
be bigger, in turn, it just gets heavier. And no matter who you are, as time goes on that heavy plate is going to get more frustrating, more unbearable. You'll want to drop the plate or try to move around the contents to make it lighter. It's worse when you are carrying two. People will tell you to
be stronger. People will tell you
how blessed you are-
I know that yogurt is unpleasant, but just look at that Thanksgiving meal you have. I know the thrower appreciates you making their plate and holding it. You're doing the right things. You're doing great. I'm here if you need anything.
And suddenly, you will feel this obligation to the plates- this is your Thanksgiving meal with a pile of yogurt on it and the thrower’s plate you're desperate for them to take at this point. You want to force it at them. Why do they care about the bag and yogurt so much when you have a hot, ready, meal for them?
How did you get yogurt on your plate? How did you not notice it coming at you? I know how it feels- I grabbed too much cranberry once. How are you not strong enough to hold the weight? How are you so ungrateful? Look at all the food you have. Why aren't you trying harder to get the yogurt off your plate? Does anyone see you here holding all this weight? Do they respect you? Why does this hurt? I'm fine. It's just an extra plate. It's just a little extra yogurt weight on my own. I should be able to eat the food around it once the thrower takes the plate.
The thrower, in their panic, hits the plate you prepared for them down. Over and over again. You want the thrower to eat. You love the thrower. You hate the thrower. The thrower blames you, jokes with you, is good, is bad- can’t fit a single damn box you give. The only truth is you worry they'll starve, but, right now, they only care about their bag and the yogurt. They don’t care about the plate you prepared for them. They don’t even notice the strain in your arms.
Over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over over over over over over over over over over over over over over over over over overoveroveroveroveroveroveroveroveroveroverover
Smack. Thwash. Crack.
Okay,
fine.
But there is still yogurt on your own plate.
It's been there a long time, it bleeds into everything else. You remember
before. You remember what you made and set up for yourself. You deserved that meal. You looked forward to it. But now, yogurt blends white with the mash potatoes, chunky with the corn, slimy with the turkey. You promise people it's okay. You'll eat from the window to not upset anyone at the table with your meal. It's good enough- normal enough for you. You can handle eating a yogurt flavored Thanksgiving dinner. It doesn't bother you. You know how to be the girl with yogurt in her food. The yogurt has made you a better person. You may not like the yogurt, but you know the person who threw it on your plate didn't mean it and because of that you can bear it.
It's all lies. Because the yogurt sours. Stinks. Reeks. There is a green blue mold lump near the turkey. You're embarrassed those at the table notice the smell- notice your gagging. You want them to think it's alright. But you cannot take another bite. It'll make you sick. It feels like it'll kill you and why couldn't it? Mold is dangerous. But they'll tell you:
You've been eating the yogurt so long. The person who threw it didn't mean it. You have to see this through. You can handle a little mold- just pluck it out.
And you think: If I could have plucked it out, I would have plucked the yogurt off my plate to start with! But yogurt doesn't pluck. And you couldn't scoop it off because then the thrower would have known what they did initially and they're still dealing with the bag and the broken container of yogurt that forced them to throw in the first place. And now it's in everything and I don't want to lose the food.
The thrower has taken the broken container out of their bag. Cleaned the bag. Apologizes to you up and down about your food. So much time has passed, but you still see the container in their hands- yogurt spilling and spurting between their fingers. You're afraid to get too close. You're afraid for the thrower to go too far because for some unknown reason (that frustrates, but is a core part of yourself) you want to know when that thrower is ready for their plate of food. Your hands- no matter how tired from your own plate- are ready to make their plate as fast and yummy as possible because you are so unbelievably ready for them to eat and put this behind them.
So what do you do?
1. Hide the plate- darkness only makes mold grow faster
2. Tell everyone you can about the yogurt, the mold, the weight- maybe they will help you. But no matter what perspective you look at it, words cannot make that plate any different
3. Ask someone to take the plate- How dare you? It's your plate. Why give someone else the burden?
4. Clean- Clean? But what about the meal?
Here's the truth: Who gives a fuck about the meal? You have moldy vomit inducing yogurt all in your own savory Thanksgiving meal and you're hungry.
If you eat that meal, you'll throw up.
If you put more new food on top of it and eat you'll either break the plate or throw up.
You need to take a spoon and scoop off as much of the junk as you can. Just cut out as much as you can.
If you do that alone you'll still have pieces stuck to the plate. A plate that is not usable and you need to eat.
So get some water- what you can do yourself- and soap- what you need to pay or go out and find- and scrub that plate as much as you can. You'll find yourself angry that you didn't do this sooner- immediately. During the time you were preparing food for the thrower, you're own plate was still malleable and easy to clean, but you waited too long and everything sticks and it's taking so long everyone else is almost done their meals. You were younger then, but now you've learned. You'll remember other things like how you cooked the turkey and how it became slimy and why that made the yogurt's job of festering so much easier. You'll realize the chunkiness of the mash potatoes made it harder to separate it from the yogurt as time passed. You'll scrub at the corn and suddenly release that final nausea of seeing it tainted by the yogurt.
And you'll have a clean plate. You'll hands will be wrinkly and damp and tired. You'll want to cry from how hard you just worked, you'll want to complain. But you're alone it the kitchen. No one in the kitchen ever gets the recognition they deserve.They just get a clean plate. It's the saddest win.
You'll want to protect the plate. Put it in the shelf. You'll want to eat out of containers or off others plates or not at all. You have forgiven the thrower, but you cannot trust them to not throw again. You're not their only repercussion.
But I have to tell you. The hardest part of this whole thing is to get that plate back out. There is a whole mouth watering Thanksgiving meal waiting for you- it's not perfect, but damn it's good. You have a plate. You need to come to the table. You need to let the thrower know you'll help them not throw, but you will not catch what falls. You'll always have a seat open for them at the table.
And then, you need to eat.
