THOSE PEOPLE
And finding my holiday spirit...
Last week, my big holiday epiphany was that I was going to get off my duff and GO SHOPPING rather than blindly clicking on links again this year. It was part of my plan to rekindle my holiday spirit.
It’s no secret that my husband and I are slowly turning into “those people.” You know them, the people on your street in a house that you wonder if anyone still lives in because they don’t decorate for Christmas … and they’re rarely seen outside their house! I don’t want to be one of those people. How did this happen? I’d like to fix that, too … but baby steps.
My first plan of attack to ward off the holiday blahs was to go back to in-person shopping. It may be a strange thing to say but notice the next time someone asks you where you got something—I dare you NOT to say Amazon!
Now that I’ve done it and got my duff in gear, put on my favorite Christmas sweater, and gone to the mall, I can say that it was a big DUH moment. Because you know what? I had so much fun! As it turned out, the mall was better than I had hoped.
I must admit, though, that this shopping trip was not the one I thought I would be making. There was no pressure to get the perfect gifts; I wasn’t shopping for my family and friends. I was shopping for toys for a community toy drive.
Toy shopping was fun, and it did cheer me up. I was looking forward to getting dressed up to attend the party and deliver my toys. However, I should have spent a little more time thinking about my party dress.
Talk about a wardrobe malfunction!
The line in the restroom was long, as lines tend to be at women’s luncheons. I was glad to see there was a wall of mirrors and a counter to set my purse down as I waited, but then, upon seeing my reflection, I gasped in horror.
“Do you think anyone noticed?” I asked the woman in line behind me.
The reflection in the mirror made it obvious that you could see right through my dress! I guess she wasn’t just “any woman”—after thirty years of attending community fundraisers, we all seem to know each other by a mere three degrees of separation. Maybe that was why I was comfortable hiking my dress up to my waist as I tried to shimmy the lining back down.
The dress I had pulled from the far recesses of my closet was a sparkly, sheer blush ¾-sleeve sheath dress with lining in the same color. Well … it was a little tight; no problem. I would wear a pair of Spanx. Problem solved. That decision turned out to be a good one because as I mingled and chatted, the dress lining worked its way up and up, so that by the time I reached the bathroom, it was bunched up around my waist. If not for the Spanx, I would have been naked! My dress was completely see-through from the waist down!
Standing there in the restroom, dress hiked up, and Spanx doing the Lord’s work, I realized something important. Apparently, my holiday spirit hadn’t been missing at all—I went to the mall to rekindle joy, bought toys for children I will probably never meet, and ended up nearly mooning half my community.
And honestly? That feels about right. Because the holidays, like this season of life, aren’t about perfection. They’re about showing up—sometimes overdressed, occasionally transparent—but still laughing, and still trying not to become “those people.”