Recently in Blatant Consumerism Category
My wife and I didn’t get each other anything for Christmas.
Our philosophy is that we try to make every day special, nullifying the need for extra effort on holidays like Christmas or Valentine’s Day, when the average yahoos of America have to run around compensating for the last three months of ignoring their spouses or taking them for granted. We have pretty high standards for marital conduct and communication, so we don’t have to make up for bad behavior with trinkets and doodads.
Plus we’re so broke that we’ve been eating rice almost exclusively for the last three or four weeks. A production that wrapped in November still owes us almost $800, but I don’t want to talk about it.
We’ve told our parents and family members that we aren’t getting anyone anything for Christmas and that we’d like them to reciprocate, and when objections are raised we inform our parents and family members that we’ve spent the last several months throwing away or ebaying most of the consumer garbage that has accumulated like plaque on every flat surface of our tiny apartment, including the floor, and that we’re quite happy with our now-manageable collection of stuff and that any gifts will promptly wind up either in the garbage or on ebay so they’d really be better off saving their money and just giving us a phone call on Christmas instead, which is all we really want anyway.
My father, the contrarian I inherited my difficult personality from, sent me $170.
My mother, the perfect mother, really, in terms of regularly sending me things I need badly but never think about like towels, new shirts, comforters, etc., sent me a jacket that I immediately wanted to return to prove the point I had made about sending gifts, but once I realized that the Kenneth Cole peacoat she picked out is lighter, warmer, and a better fit than the 30lb wearable workout I’ve been lugging around since last Christmas that is down to just one button, which I am only able to fasten by lightly ripping the stitches on each wearing just enough to wrap the fabric all the way around my ever-expanding bulk, I decided to let her make a liar out of me and kept the damn thing.
