Thank You for NOT Feelin’ Sorry For Me— I’m not a Christmas Orphan!
Oh, for cryin’ out loud, already! Yes, I am alone at Christmas.
Yes, I am havin’ tofu chili dogs and pop tarts for the holiday!
Yes, there is no dead tree in my home, covered in precarious electrical baubles threatening to ignite so I can run toward a camera like Bruce Willis after the explosion.
Yes, I got no children jumpin’ on my bed at 6 am to tell me we had a break-in last night and they wanna open the evidence right now.
Yes, nobody is chasing me around the house, waving gingerbread men with a missing eye and foot, making scary voices from The Fly “Heeeeelp Meeee!”.
Yes, I don’t have to find my way over the river and through the woods to Grandmother’s house so she can point out how fat I was a child and ask me why I’m not married in front of the neighbor’s single middle aged son who works at 7-11.
Yes, I don’t have to wear one of those sweaters with Santa pasted on it because it was hand picked especially for me by an aunt who thinks I am still 10 years old and tall for my age.
Yes, I did not spend my rent money on perfume gift boxes, Whitman chocolates, and generic make up kits with twelve shades of eye shadow.
Yes, I did not go to Walmart Hell, not even once on Christmas eve because I forgot to buy something for somebody who’s name I also forgot.
Yes, I don’t have to drink nine brandy eggnogs so I can have a decent conversation about WWII with my father-in-law.
Yes, I don’t have to watch “It’s a Beautiful Life” with family members who swear we’ve only seen it twenty two times, wishing I still smoked pot.
And yes, I can see why you feel sorry for me, and thank you for calling, but really, I promise, I am okay!
Seriously, go on without me, I’ll be here when you get back, singing “Silent Night” with my usual gratitude.
Yes, all is calm….