There is, in a bag just over there, are the secret Christmas presents I bought for myself.
There are two pair of Worthington tights from JC Penny, both black, but one with chalk stripes, like those on suiting. I think they probably won’t work well over my hockey player calves, the ones that have always stopped me from wearing pale hose, but since both pairs were $2 after the $10 bonus certificate, I figured I’d try.
The big splurge is a Braun Silk Epelle I hid in an Amazon order, a mechanical epilator that is said to get more hairs in one pass. My old Phillips still works, but it takes many passes to get close to clear, and that’s a challenge.
But what I crave are the two ultra soft, long sleeve, v-neck t-shirts from Target. The ones I got on clearance last year fit well, thanks to the bit of lycra in the cotton, and this years are even softer, nicer. So, when I saw them marked down from $12 to $7 last week, I found a bit in the grocery bidget to buy two, one in black and the other in citrus.
Yeah. What I want to slip into are standard, budget essential t-shirts from Target. I’m no fetishistic monkey, wanting or needing somewhere to give me a thrill, no I just want to put on a decent bra and a good t-shirt and jacket and get out into the world.to do some work.
Instead, I’m pounding out the servant work, with repacks and fixes and laundry made harder because the drier is broken. My mother has even gone so far to throw the urine soaked towels she keeps in her absorbent pants at me when she wants them washed. Yum.
My sister didn’t do much with me, as she has a friend up and a boyfriend and his daughter around. I handed her the table grace, but she never got back with a comment, and I never got to ask her to go through the ritual of handing me my secret gifts, so they would have some connection. It wouldn’t be strange. I bought maybe 85% of what I was gifted, cheap men’s knit shirts and electronic bits so my mother would feel she had done what was needed.
I’ve worked and worked and worked, and this moment is secret Christmas. Tomorrow is work again.
And somehow, it doesn’t feel like the way Christmas is supposed to be.