Sleigh bells ring, are you listening?
Well I’m trying my hardest to crank up the volume of my headphones as Sia blasts from my phone into my almost burst eardrums, but unfortunately yes, I am listening to the flipping sleigh bells ring. I walk aimlessly around my local shopping centre blinded by twinkling lights, flashing Santa hats and overwhelmingly large SALE signs in every window. The scent of gingerbread lattes and overpriced perfume clings to my winter coat, reminding me that once again Christmas is imminent.
Spoiler alert; I’m not the biggest fan of this time of year. I promise I’m not about to ruin it for you by writing a lengthy blog about how it’s a waste of time and money as I shit all over your reindeer parade. I am happy that it makes other people feel warm and fuzzy enough to hang oversized socks above an open fire (I literally just realised how dangerous this is, please warn others) and I don’t want to take that away from anyone. But must I be forced to participate?
I’m well aware that there are a lot of Bah Humbug types out there squashing the dreams of small children. I’m not one of those people. I’m willing to chat about buying presents, eat a box of mince pies to myself, discuss what everyone’s plans are and what not. Most people aren’t even aware that I hate Christmas. When people ask when I’m putting my tree up I have to skirt around the issue, explaining that we binned our old one when we moved, haven’t got round to finding a new one and don’t particularly want the mess of a real one, when really all I want to say is I DON’T WANT TO PUT UP A CHRISTMAS TREE. I also don’t plan on handing out cards or singing carols round the piano. I’m not sure I can really explain why, other than the fact that joyfulness which has to be scheduled on a calendar just disnae seem right to me.
There have been of course, acceptions to the rule. Times when Christmas was “not that bad” include:
- The year I got a keyboard. Aged 10. Plans to become a pop star seemed to be coming to fruition.
- The year we went out to a restaurant for Christmas lunch. Didn’t have to watch poor mum stress out about burning the roast potatoes and running out of microwave space. Also, no washing up duties for anyone.
- The year I stayed home alone, didn’t shower, ordered pizza, spoke to no one and watched the entire back catalogue of 30 Rock whilst quoting appropriate lines such as “There ain’t no party like a Liz Lemon party because a Liz Lemon party is mandatory”. Joke, that Christmas hasn’t happened, yet.
As you can see, its not that I don’t celebrate (in the loosest sense of the word – no alcohol and in bed with hot tea by midnight thankyou very much) Christmas at all . I still buy presents for my close family, eat turkey on the 25th and acknowledge that the whole thing is happening around me, but do I really have a choice? I don’t imagine my parents would be too pleased if I rang up on Christmas Eve and ducked out of plans because I forgot I had to defrost my freezer that weekend. Sorry Mum I can’t make the dinner I really need to get my eyebrows waxed and the girl I usually get is about to go on holiday so its now or never, or at least learn to style my hair to cover the top half of my face for a fortnight. There is literally no excuse that can get you out of Christmas festivities so what’s a girl to do?
Grin and bear it I guess.