I decided to get back at those red-nosed con artists (my parents). Every year I would feign innocence (this was completely believable with my tiny skeletal frame and exaggeratedly sad eyes) andwould write my dear Santa letter aloud. My demands changed from chocolate chip cookies to a Barbie Porsche, suspicions arose: "But how could this doe-eyed skeletal toddler hoodwink us?" my parents seemed to ask themselves.
Year after year my plan worked out perfectly – Barbie houses, chemistry sets, puppies – all too big to fit in a stocking. Until one year (although I was still skeletal, I was already 12 thus lost my kiddie cred) I ended up where I began, I found a cookie in my stocking. The con was over.
Thank God that after the series of hoaxes, I was not disowned. It’s barely a week to Christmas and yet people around me are complaining why they don’t feel Christmas.
It’s that jolly time of the year when waistlines expand and wallets shrink. When foes become friends, and lovers are enslaved. Despite the streets drowning in Christmas lights and Christmas carols ringing, people are still Scroogy. Could it be the curse of the Christmas con?
We all have our Christmas cons. Somehow the Santa hoax (I’m hoping anyone reading this is old enough to know) led us to more crimes of Christmas.
Christmas can be used for blackmailing. Desperate women use the season as a reason for their men to commit (and implosion follows soon after). Parents tell their kids to be nice or else (oh that dreaded or else). Bosses work their grunts overtime so as to have a longer Christmas break. It can be a total wet rag over the holidays.
Here’s a crime we all have been guilty of at one time or another. Re-gifting. Mine was committed a few years ago. My friend David Jacob had one of his yearly Christmas parties where we all had to bring one present for the kris kringle. Of course I was more worried about my outfit than the gift. So when the festivities came I didn’t want to go empty-handed. I did what people who go to hell do – I plucked a random Christmas gift from under the tree and went in my perfect outfit.
Going there I examined my gift. It was hideous. It was a gilded candle that melted a bit from being under the Christmas lights with red reindeer swooping upwards. I would not wish this gift upon anyone, I thought to myself as I discarded the original card. I checked for company stickers or family symbols; I wanted it to at least look anonymous.
When I arrived the tree was beautiful and furthermore it was lined with awesome gifts. David, our host, had this fantastic Acqua di Parma bounty from Homme et Femme, while the other gifts I spied were Calvin Klein PJs, Champagne, Diptyque candles and L’Occitane sets. I immediately hid my pobre gift and tucked it behind the haughty presents.
I was so excited! I was already eyeing the Acqua di Parma set! After all, the possibility of me getting my crappy gift was smaller than lightning striking me in Boracay while I was in my hotel room. Oh, but fate had a good laugh and threw a punch at me.
After I saw my friend get the Acqua di Parma bounty, I started to get sour.
Well, I had other designer booty to look forward to, I thought to myself.
Then I realized that when my number was finally called, I got what I asked for. My re-gifted candle. I learned from that day on that what goes around indeed comes around.
Another con is the case of generic gifts. Well, they are not entirely bad. Coming from a family of politicians, generic gifts are a necessary evil. My mother has a hundred or so godchildren. So she really can’t help but repeat herself. With friends it’s either good or bad. Good when you try to keep the delicate eco-balance that you and your friends share. Sometimes it pays to be communist for Christmas. Good, if you’re creative. My friend Chut once made a mini collage of our group eating dinner, lunch and brunch. It was so charming it made it to my top 10 fave gifts for that year. Bad happens if you’re simply too lazy. Read: Candles. As Clinton Palanca once said, candles have replaced fruitcakes.
I guess another Christmas crime is not eating. Even for a borderline quack like me, I feel I have no choice but to let go. Be as big and happy as a parol! Holiday dieters suck and should never be invited without a muzzle. The ghost of Christmas past came to me recently. Eating stuffing from a poor dead turkey, some chick starts ticking off the nutritional contents of the stuffing. It was annoying and then I realized that that was me all year round. I promise never to suck again.
So, I guess all the old adages about Christmas are true. Eat and be merry.
It’s really the season of giving (the right way). And most of all, it’s the season for love. So no more cons and dirty looks!