The other day must have been rougher than I realized because on my way home I passed a house decked out with several of those pretty white light angels and immediately unleashed a level of rage that I haven’t tapped into since CBS canceled “Partners.”
It was the waist. The impossibly skinny, belted waist that set me off. There is no way this angel could have mustered the breath support to herald or even sing sweetly, not that this is a valid point seeing as none of the inflatable Santas I’ve seen could fit down a standard chimney and all of the animatronic lawn deer move way too slowly to survive hunting season. But there’s something specific about the anorexic angels that crosses the line for me. Something that goes outside of the acceptable realm (of glory?) of prettying up this unsettling season. I know I’m alone on this one and also a complete hypocrite since our house is Santa/Jesus central right now. And every year there seems to be a different line for me; this year it’s angels, last year it was Christmas cards…
I love filling our home with pictures of all the people we love or at least tolerate (it’s about 7 hours after I originally wrote this and I realize I meant to write “and the people who tolerate us.” The original version is definitely not out of character for me but not the case here.) I am impressed beyond belief when I receive a family portrait pic that lacks dark circles under mom and dad’s eyes and has all 2.5 children actually looking at the camera. Even if this picture is only the 30 seconds they have had it together all year, I consider this to be a massive accomplishment.
Maybe it makes me a Grinch or a Scrooge but one year, along with all of the beautiful cards we receive, I would also love to get a one that reads like this:
“Here we are. We tried, we really tried and this is the best we could do. Half smiles, a stained sweater, and frizzy hair. Welcome to our home… It’s cold and we’re stressed because this is the most expensive time of the year and truthfully, it seems like everything is coming to the surface right now. Why??? Why is that?!??? In the midst of our possibly over-the-top wallowing we’re holding you in a special, insulated place in our hearts because we can’t believe we’re the only people feeling a little less than picture perfect right now. So may your heart be open just enough to receive some fresh air in the weeks to come. I’d suggest a massage or hot bubble bath to help but who has the time for that?!? Long deep breaths, friend, and an extra roll of wrapping paper to tear or scrunch up when you’re feeling crazy. Merry Christmas.”