Why I Hate Christmas

For most of my life I’ve been called Scrooge when it comes to Christmas. I’m hoping to set the record straight and attempt to defend my already questionable reputation.

Christmas is great. It’s wonderful. Really. I swear.

You can smell cinnamon cider in the air. Children are gleefully playing in the snow. People are sharing their love through gift giving. Carolers are caroling. Sleigh bells are ringing. Blah Blah Blah… You get the drift, I’m sure.

No matter who you are, you have to agree that when its Christmas time the cheese factor is pretty high. People buy sweaters that have snowmen, santas or candy canes scattered all over them. They don’t buy just one… but they buy a crap load so they can wear them E.V.E.R.Y. freakin day. And apparently large Christmas tree earrings are a must when trying to pull off the appropriate Christmas attire. If YOU are one of these people, I mean no ill will towards you personally… just your insanely cheesy wardrobe. To me, Christmas makes the world appear as if the Clipart Fairy threw up all over it.

Christmas = Presents.

I love giving presents as well as receiving them. No doubt about it. But as a kid, I enjoyed sleeping more than I did Christmas morning. While normal children wake up with excitement billowing inside them, I was that odd kid who opted to sleep in. So every year on Christmas morning my excited older brother would run into my room, disrupt my peaceful slumber, and loudly announce that Santa had visited us during the night. It would almost take an act of congress to get me out of that warm bed. One year my most thoughtful brother received a Polaroid camera from Santa. Instead of the usual Christmas routine of forcing me out of bed, he took Polaroid’s of all my presents and brought them to my bedside. Sad story, but sweet guy.

There’s a fine line between cheese and non-cheese.

If I ever do cheese, the cheese has to be so obvious that it’s understood. Make sense? The cheese becomes the joke. This I’m okay with. Of course, if ever I had children, I’m sure my house would have been adorned with all the fake snow, yard art, and animated santas that money can buy. And I'm sure the poor things would have worn snowflake dresses and Rudolf ties. Not at the same time of course…

I’m now trying to accept the cheese within.

I’ve been given more grief about my Christmas attitude than I can shake two cinnamon sticks at. I’m not one to mold myself into what other’s expect of me, but I feel I am someone who is willing to adopt someone else’s outlook if it makes sense. I may be naturally stubborn, but not so much that I slam the door in your face if you don’t agree with my point of view.

All that to say, I’m trying to find that cheesy Christmas spirit that lurks deep, deep, deep inside me. That verrrrrry tiny place where the love of a snowman tie and a candy cane sweater struggles to survive. The incredibly small corner of my heart that is reserved only for big plastic yard art and red foil Christmas trees. Like I said, I’m trying.

Act your way into a feeling.

I’ve even listened to Christmas radio in hopes to magically absorb some of this holiday cheer. Not only in my car, but I – on extremely rare occasions – have listened to it in my office. This has freaked some of my coworkers out. They don’t know what’s going on and have grown concerned about me. I assure them that my name still is Becca and I have not been abducted by tiny-stupid-Christmas-elf-aliens. Just know that the day I show up in a Christmas sweater, I’ll have fallen way over the edge. At that point, I'll be beyond saving. Run. Save yourselves.

A little too late?

As I write this, I wonder now if Christmas was the right holiday to begin my new pro-cheese life. Maybe I should have started with Columbus Day or something. A holiday less visually celebrated in order to start off slow with little pressure. Maybe make it a goal to wish at least 12 people “Happy Columbus Day”. If the day seems to be going okay, I could hum “America the Beautiful” as if it came naturally. Then branch out the next year to Fourth of July - maybe sporting a red, white & blue attire for the day while passing out tiny flags. Adopting a new holiday each year is a good idea to me. Then by the time the King of Cheese holiday is to be incorporated into the list, I’ll be better prepared.

I should have come up with this brilliant idea before I started torturing myself. One person can only hear “Grandma Got Run Over by a Reindeer” so many freakin times in their day before they fearl the men in white jackets coming to take them away.

Which reminds me of the lyrics of my life's theme song:

"They're coming to take me away, ha-haaa!! They're coming to take me away, ho-ho, hee-hee, ha-haaa"