BAH HUMBUG

I am so not in a "holiday mood" again this year. I resent anyone who wants me to be in a "holiday mood". I feel more like Santa being asked by the angel where he wants the tree put, and that's why we have angels on trees. If I hear one more Ho, Ho, Ho broadcast over loudspeakers, I'm buying a gun.

I'm broke. It ain't pretty. And yet I surrounded with messages to buy everything for your loved ones, so they will continue to love you. I know this is complete and utter bullshit, yet I love to see their faces smiling because I thought of them. So instead, I am getting a generous helping of Guilt. The holidays are not lovingly frosted with glucose- they are frosted with Guilt and we just down the sugar to have some sort of comfort, regardless of it rebounding on us with yet more guilt about how fat I am.

And last year's holiday season was overshadowed by Gram and Colin and their loss of the struggle to continue breathing. I don't want a party hat- I want to sit in the corner and cry. I greive for the Kissmooses of Childhood, because I ain't a child any more.

I could continue but why bother? I don't have the right spices in my spice rack, wear the right kind of watch, or wear the newest seamless bra that shows everything off just so and you can see my wings. The commercials are getting worse and more pervasive. it's a matter of time before there are bidding wars for advertsing forehead tattooes, and my marriage will be sponsored by Preparation H.  ¶ 9:20 AM