Am I the Grinch?

As December rolls around, the world around me is oozing holiday cheer, twinkling lights, cheery carolers, and the eternal optimism of people who somehow believe that putting on an ugly sweater around a fire can solve world’s problems. Me? I’ve been a Scrooge since I was 12-years old. I mean, is it really so wrong to feel like the Grinch?

It’s not that I hate Christmas, I’m not that far gone. There’s just something about the relentless cheer, the uninvited smells of holiday foods, and the incessant pressure to wear tinsel. It makes me want to crawl into my bed until New Years Eve (we all know I can’t miss that party).

Take family gatherings for instance. The joy of gathering around the table, where every relative seems to bring a dish designed to remind me of my lack of willpower. Have you ever been on a diet while at your holiday dinner? It’s a battlefield. The famous green bean casserole, the mashed potatoes, the way they both glisten and wobble… You’re trying to hold your own, trying to resist the temptation of those buttery carbs, but it’s like fighting a losing battle. The second someone pushed a place into your hands… Officially, game over.

Yet, the holiday cheer doesn’t stop! Shoveling food down your throat with a forced smile while trying to calculate how many miles I’m going to have to run the morning after, if I’m not hungover. The whole thing feels like some cruel joke. I used to dream of Christmases in Paris, sipping wine, reading Perfume. Now I’m at my Uncle Paul’s staring the apple pie down.

Then there’s the issue of what to wear. Every year it’s the same. I open my closet, I see sequins, cashmere, and a lot of lace… It works for where I am now, but I don’t think my grandparents care to see… that. In a small town, I’m expected to dress for the holidays. The kind of red and green plaid that makes you look like a walking Christmas present, or worse, the puffy sweater that does nothing for your silhouette, but add pounds.

Yes, I could wear something black that screams “IDGAF.” Instead, most of the time I stare silently into the mirror, wondering why anyone thinks it’s normal to show up to a holiday gathering dressed as Santa? Why must I wear something that screams “festive” when I feel more like the character who would steal the tree and throw it out the window just to see the chaos unfold?

It’s a balancing act. The outfits, the food, the forced joviality, and honestly, most of the time I just want to skip it all. I want to spend the holidays in a place that smells like espresso and nobody is around to ask me why I haven’t visited sooner? I want the city Christmas, to make witty observations about the strangers I see on the street. Much rather that, than seeing a pile of deviled eggs.

Here’s the thing, I know I’m not alone. We’re all just trying to survive the season of forced togetherness, each of us secretly praying that the next round of gingerbread cookies isn’t followed by a family argument. If we all took a moment to be honest, without the mistletoe toe or all the extra seasonal expectations, we would realize that the holidays don’t need to be as perfect as people stress so much! We all just need to show up and… calm down?

There is something beautiful about all of it. Plus, somebody in the family has to be a Grinch during Christmas to balance out the energy. Sometimes, the best way to survive the holidays is to admit- I’m the Grinch, and maybe that’s exactly what Christmas needs this year.