I love the holidays. I do. Thanksgiving, Christmas, my birthday, Groundhog day...I love 'em all!
(I just whispered that last sentence.)
I know. I KNOW. What's wrong with me?!?!?
I don't like giving them and I DON'T like getting them. And it's all because of the reaction.
Whenever I give a gift, I'm super-paranoid that he/she won't like it. So that ruins all fun.
Whenever I get a gift, I'm super-paranoid that my reaction will be all wrong. Either the gift-giver will think I hate it (especially if I do hate it!) or I'll react the wrong way or something will happen or Santa will never speak to me again or IT WILL JUST BE BAD.
I don't even really like getting gifts from my extended family. My sister, even. I know. I am cuh-razy with a capital C. Well...this isn't entirely true. I like gifts, I just hate having to see people face-to-face after opening them. I'm totally okay with opening a gift while 3,000 miles away from you and just sending you a thank-you card. (I'm really good with thank-you cards.)
I've already made sure my roommates know that I DO NOT WANT GIFTS. My birthday is coming up, too -- NO GIFTS. If they ever really want to give me anything, donate to charity in my name! Buy a goat! Donate to LLS! You get the drift!
I should end this, though, by saying that I have asked my parents for gifts this Christmas. Specifically (literally), socks and underwear. And bras. Cause I desperately need new ones. And I also asked for CVS gift cards. Because I am just that exciting.
*sigh* You know you're not a kid anymore when the things you want are the things you need...though, Mumsie and Pops, feel free to slip in a Barbie Dream House if you feel so inclined.