I’m not inherently greedy. And I don’t mean to be bossy. But there are a few things I REALLY don’t want to find in my stocking, or under my tree, on Christmas morning.
Clothes That Don’t Fit: Whether it’s too-tight jeans (Hey, you bought them. Now you have to watch me wear them) or too-small lingerie (yes I know you’d like me to be the size of a Twizzler, but I’m not), please don’t try to guess my size. It just humiliates both of us.
(And I wonder why I have digestion problems.)
Any cleaning supplies: I’m not Alice from the freakin’ Brady Bunch. No matter how much our house needs these items, I don’t want a vacuum, broom, mop, Windex, Pledge, grout or paper towels. But feel free to get my house as many of those gifts as you’d like.
(With Ann B. Davis as the resident shit picker-upper.)
(This is not a Christmas gift. This is a refreshing beverage.)
Weight-loss books/Magazines: Yes, I know I gripe about my weight, but that doesn’t mean this is a thoughtful gift. In fact, this could be the last gift you ever give me with both of your arms. And my husband is DYING to get me a subscription to Cosmo, especially with the title “100 Ways to Drive Him Crazy in Bed.” I know one way to drive him crazy in bed: put my cold feet on his back.
(A seriously bad gift idea.)