You've worked hard all semester, and it's finally time for a well-deserved break with well-cooked food. That's right. It's Thanksgiving Day.

You've been preparing for this moment for a long, long time.

A long time.

Your relatives show up, and pleasant (and awkward) hugs are exchanged.

You decide to be a team player this year and help out in the kitchen.

Until your mom kicks you out because you're essentially useless and keep stealing food.

What? Who took that entire turkey leg? It was not me.

With everyone crowded in the living room, it's difficult to get a spot by the TV.

You start talking to your relatives, and they obviously ask you about school and significant others and your future and other things that you don't want to answer.

No, Grandma. There is not a line of boys out the door trying to date me. Thanks.

But at this point, you're too hungry to care what they think about your utter lack of success.

Suddenly, the alarm has sounded. It's dinner time, and there's a mad rush to get in line for food.

Your mom asks you what you want to drink with dinner.

And she's not impressed with your extensive pallet.

But you usually get away with it anyway.

And then she tells you that you have to wait for everyone to get food before you can eat.

How dare she.

After what feels like a million years, you're finally allowed to dig in. You're so overwhelmed with joy and possibility that your inner monologue sounds something like this:

You don't have time to contribute the conversation because you're too busy living your dream.

Stop asking me about summer internships. I'm too preoccupied with this stuffing.

Then a relative dares to suggest that you slow down because you're eating "too fast."

The words "too fast" do not exist when there are mashed potatoes involved.

Your sibling tries to tell a story about you that no one is supposed to hear, and you need to coyly put them in their place.

*Kicks sibling in the shin underneath the table*

You have very clearly made that meal your bitch, and you're so proud of yourself that you start trash talking what's left of your ham.

Even though your stomach is about to burst, you know you can't quit yet.

Mind over waistline, people.

The longer the meal goes on, the weirder the conversation and the relatives get. They usually taking a political turn by the end.

Not everyone knows what they're talking about.

Then the drowsiness sets in, and your entire family drifts off into the best nap of the year.

You'll need the rest, too, because in a few hours you'll have to wake up for that Black Friday Christmas shopping.

Solution: spend all of your money. Onto the next holiday!