lobsterchick's Diaryland Diary ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Have Yourself a Mortifying Christmas I should just be thankful for what I got for Christmas, right? Right. But instead, I'm deeply embarrassed about what my mom and Boy got me. It's like, they think I'm so great that they want to make me happy and it does, but what happens when they figure out I'm not as great as these presents warrant? My mom went off the deep end, since this is my last Christmas at home with her, and got me pajamas, four shirts (two of which are actually argyle sweaters, one with an argyle torso and solid colored sleeves, the other with solid torso and argyle sleeves), the book Skipping Christmas, a bunch of Burt's Bees stuff, a pair of Skechers, and a $50 Sephora gift card. I also got two boxes of crayons (one this year's 50 states box, the other the regular 64 box + sharpener), and a pink and black plaid skirt. Then, Boy came over. From him, I got a sapphire and diamond ring, a pink iPod, a box of Godiva chocolates, America, the Book, Poop, the book (does this guy know me or what?), and a digital pedometer. But no, the embarrassment does not end there. It continues until I was in the kitchen with his mom and sister, and the subject of my punching Boy's ex-girlfriend came up. And his mom all but came out and said that she liked his ex-girlfriend better than she likes me, is miffed and a half that I punched her, and that she can pretty much understand where she came from in calling me a slut. Yeah. I had another good hour and a half to go until we left, so I kept my mouth shut and stayed miserable, counting the minutes on my iPod clock until we left and I could finally breath. Boy had realized immediately that something was wrong, but I refused to start, or continue, shit at his parents' house on Christmas, so I waited until we were in the car. To his credit, he was none too pleased, and he asked if I'd made sure to bring my iPod, because he really wanted to turn around and get it and hand his mom her ass on a platter, but alas, I had it with me. He was enraged and told me I should have told him right when it happened, but like I want to see him go off on his mom for Christmas. It's bad enough she can't be bothered to get him what he wanted. After that, the embarrassment ended, and after a tearful conversation in the car wherein Boy assured me that it was me he wanted to marry, and that he would defend me to his mother, we went to my family's, where all was rowdy and wild but absent of fights. I hope your Christmas had a distinct lack of embarrassment. 11:10 PM - 25 December 2004 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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