Every Christmas, from the time I was born till I turned 18, my Aunt Lila would give me the same thing for Christmas:
A tacky Christmas sweater.
Oh, the horror!
First, there was the blue one with Rudolf the reindeer. Rudolf was drawn with puff-paint – a signature classic for any kid raised in the 80’s/90’s – with bells sewn into the sweater at the end of each antler.
So, besides growing up albino white and chubby with bad skin and coke-bottle glasses, I now had to JINGLE whenever I walked.
Then, she switched from Rudolf to Santa.
Santa’s head was always drawn right over my left boob (or shall I say, chicken breast), with his HUGE swelling stomach eclipsing the rest of the sweater.
One year, she got all high-tech on me. She took the “voicebox” out of a Teddy Ruxpin doll and IMPLANTED it into Santa’s belly.
Whenever I walked, he would go “ho ho HO!” and then – get this – the sounds of FAT ROLLS rubbing together would emerge. From my effing SWEATER.
So, basically, instead of jingling, I now JIGGLED.
Plus, I was forced to wear these sweaters to every single family get-together through the holidays, just to prove how much I appreciated and LOVED my Aunt Lila’s thoughtful (read: sadistic) gift!
Seriously, folks: How much social torment can one Rebel Deb endure?
Please, for the love of Pop Tarts and all that is bright and beautiful in this world…STOP the Tacky Sweater Get-Togethers before it’s too late!