Buzznet Storytellers #38: Giving the Gift Of Regret
Oh Christmas, how you wound me. All year I try to be good so that I might get many prezzies from Ol’ St. Nick but alas, growing up a poor child afforded me no luxuries. I lament. Christmas was more often than not a practice in learning how to enjoy the simpler things:
Me on Christmas morn’
It’s not that I never recieved any prezzies or anything like that, I just never got high value gifts that I could brandish to my friends on the playground after winter break. I usually got clothes and things that I needed, which btw, wasn’t much because I was small and didn’t even know what I actually needed.
“Mom I really <3 mai sox u got meh thx!”
But rly I was like:
Air quotes FTW
I am not saying that I wasn’t appreciative of getting anything, because I was. I guess that’s why now, all I want for Christmas are things that I need – like socks and underwear. Ugh I hate buying those things. It’s not awkward, it’s just annoying. I hate having to go shopping and then pick stuff that no one is going to see anyway.
Whoops there go mai pants
Anyway, since I have rambled on as usual, I do remember one weird ass prezzie that I got. My aunt used to be an Avon lady. If you don’t what Avon is, it’s basically like, a door to door sales person thing that comes to your house to sell you make up and junk. It’s weird. My aunt always used to get us something from Avon and then that was it. Oh and then her kids had all the bad ass toys and I was:
One time my aunt got me this:
Actually, she got me this on more than one occassion.
I never really knew what it was for until way later. See, the thing about my family is that we are basically hairless. Which sucks because I want to grow a beard and I can’t. I NEVER saw my dad shave until way later. I did, however, always see my step mom shaving her legs so GUESS WHAT I DID?
Me: Age 6
Yep. I would try to shave my legs like me mum. Not that I had leg hair as a tender youngling, I just thought that’s how you used this thing. So that was fun. Except not really. I was a confused child and now I am hairless man so it is kind of whatever. I am sad that I can’t grow a proper beard so I can call myself an “otter” or something that the other gays call themselves when they have body hair. STOP POLICING MY BODY, HOMOSEXUALS!
Anyway, that’s my weird prezzie story. You should write one too because if you don’t, you will make me sad in my haert. TTFN!