When I was younger I was obsessed with trying to make my Christmas like a cliché holiday Hallmark movie. A white Christmas, big family, and a Christmas miracle.
But I lived in Australia, had separated parents and Santa isn’t real.
I remember trying desperately to salvage my holiday realities into a perfect picture but that would have been a miracle indeed.
So I became a Christmas Grinch, picking holes in the holiday. I practiced due diligence by reminding everyone how lucrative it must be for some when people paid to sit on a strangers lap just because he had a fake beard and a cheap red suit.
But this year I’m trying to retire from being a Grinch. I’m hoping once again for a Christmas miracle (in the form of Macklemore tickets). I’m excited to see my dad’s face of horror when I make him wear his ugly Christmas Hawaiian shirt (even better than ugly sweaters!). And I’m excited to spend more money than I ought at capitalisms’ favourite event of the year (otherwise known as the Boxing Day Sales).
Sure I have some way to go, but I'm choosing to let a little Christmas cheer in.
So Merry Christmas to all (even to the Grinches)
By Natalie Tew, 16