Ah, the joy of the holidays. This year for Christmas, my family is jetting off to Colorado in order to avoid the noticeable absence of my former husband. However, since I took almost my entire year’s vacation allotment for our honeymoon, there weren’t many days left over for this excursion. Drat. I so wanted to spend more time being my mom, dad, sister, and brother-in-law’s fifth wheel.
I purposefully planned to drive in the night before our flight, nearly avoiding the emotional debacle of Christmas at home altogether. Genius, if I do say so myself. Last night, I drove into town as planned. I was packed and ready to avoid all talk of merriment and get right down to disappearing in the mountains. To my surprise, my family did not have their suitcases lined up by the door in usual fashion.
“Aren’t you guys ready?” I said in a rather accusatory tone. “Our flight leaves at 11am.”
“No, honey,” responded my mother, “our flight leaves on Friday at 11am. We scheduled it a day late because you couldn’t get off work, remember? How did you manage to get tomorrow off, anyway?”
So thanks to my inability to keep track of complex matters like what day it is, I got an extra day in the house of bad memories. It wasn’t all that terrible – my mom even went to the trouble of sweeping the place and removing any noticeable triggers. She only forgot a few tiny, unobvious things… like the bridal magazine that did a 3-page spread on my wedding. And the huge picture of our family of six sitting on the mantle. And my rotting, dried bouquet (symbolic?). And the chocolate bar she was eating when I walked in – the one we gave as favors at the wedding, complete with commemorative sticker. On a side note, that chocolate is getting old. Why is she still eating that shit? The wedding was in March for Christ’s sake.
So momma bear was in the doghouse for a little bit. Luckily, she completely redeemed herself when she revealed my Christmas loot. These gorgeous Swarovski rings are one of my favorite gifts from “Santa” (yes, she still puts Santa on the “from” tags even though her youngest child is 24).
She also got me these killer purses from Kate Spade. I feel so luxe and spoiled. Don’t stop feeling sorry for me, mom. Purses help the pain.
I also got these shirts today, but they were a Christmas present to myself. That’s right, I went shopping for myself. Again. On my family’s Christmas. Stop judging me, I found an Aritzia and I couldn’t help it.
One shirt makes me feel feminine and giggly. The other is boyfriend fit… so I can wear it and pretend I have an actual man.
Usually during Christmas, I get so much pleasure from finding everyone the perfect gift and watching their eyes light up as they open it. This year, I spent hours online shopping for myself and bought everyone else’s gift in a 20 minute stop at Walmart on the way to Dallas. And you know what? Those bitches liked their gifts just the same.
Yes, receiving feels better this year. Maybe it’s the Zoloft. Or maybe I am becoming a selfish bitch. Either way, today turned out pretty swell. Now, it’s time for me to go cuddle with my new clothes, handbags, and jewelry.
Bask in the socially acceptable selfishness of the holiday season, everyone.