It's not a time for giving, for me, it's a time where my mother buys me things I like and then the rest of the time plotting ways I can exchange my gifts for money.
Christmas is a time for my mother to get overly stressed while I struggle carrying the oysters and yelling at my dad for asking to bring the dog to my Aunties house.
Christmas, for me, isn't a time of giving. Because I don't actually have any money for myself. My parents fund me to buy presents for them, and then I don't really have to get any one anything else. I'm really self conscious when it comes to gift giving, after all people have said about hating their presents 95% of the time. I also have a skewed taste when it comes to all things buyable, the only person who seems to get me right is Emily when she says "yeah, this is a Katie movie."
Christmas is pretty much just a day were I spend time at my Aunties house while all the shops are closed. It's a time of year where I whisper "Oh God" as I turn the corner into my street and see my house luminescent with home made Christmas lights and shapes. It's a time of year where my house smells like Pine tree and I'm required to wake up two hours before I normally do. Also I'd like to mention last year, my Dad bought himself a folding bike and labelled it "From Santa". This has also occurred every year since I learned to read. Not the bike, obviously. My parents buy themselves presents and label them "From Rudolf" "From Prancer"
I then receive presents that I actually don't mind if they were carefully chosen by myself, but I didn't bother to send out a list of things I want to any of my family this year so I'm interested to find out what they've bought for me. My dad's side of the family think that I'm this dirty hippy who wags school and dresses like MC Hammer, and so they all try to buy me items of clothing that are just as outrageous as the claim that I'm a dirty hippy.
