November 23, 2008
The Worst Present Ever
Christmas is knocking on my door and I’m just a little panicky because my shopping isn’t done. This happens every year. I think I know exactly what to get for those important people in my life, and then I realize I have no clue at all.
My parents are the most difficult to buy for because they don’t “need” anything. They usually go out and get the things they want themselves. Buying gifts for my siblings is always a guessing game because their tastes change like the daily news.
And then I have to worry about the inlaws and my husband. Honestly, gift certificates are the way to go for that side of the family.
But just the other day my husband asked me what I wanted for Christmas and I drew a blank. I hadn’t really thought about it. I could use a new toaster. Or new silverware. When I told him that he shook his head.
“Christmas presents shouldn’t be something you need. They should be something you want. No household equipment.” he said.
Okay, then. Well, if I had to choose anything, I’d probably ask for a day off from this parenting gig. Being a mom is not easy. I’d like one entire day, a full 24 hours (well, actually 32 hours to make up for the time I’d be sleeping) away from wife and mothering duties. That would be the perfect Christmas present.
It would be better than the worst present I ever received. Have I ever told you about that?
It was the Christmas of 1997. It was my first year of college and I had been dating a guy that I believed to be my Prince Charming. He was good looking, intelligent and kind to me. I thought he was the perfect guy.
A few days before Christmas we went to Hilltop Restaurant for dinner and to exchange our gifts. I bought him an awesome watch he’d been eying. He bought me a sweater. In the wrong size.
The sweater he gave me had an XS on the tag. There was nothing extra small about me. At 5′7″ and 140 pounds (yes, way before children) I wore a large and I wasn’t shy about it. If I hadn’t inherited the big boobs that ran in my mother’s side of the family, I probably could have squeezed into a medium — but never an extra small. Sheesh.
I thanked my boyfriend and pretended everything was okay. I’d just exchange it for my size and he’d never know the difference. Then I realized he bought this sweater on a trip back home to Madison, at a store we didn’t have in Stevens Point. Madison was a two hour drive from Point.
When my guy dropped me off at home he asked me to try the damn thing on. That’s when I had to breakdwon and tell him I’d never fit into that sweater.
“Come on, try it on!” he said excitedly.
“Umm, yeah….Here’s the thing….I have boobs and they aren’t small. And truth be told, I’ve got hips and a frame that isn’t as tiny as you think. This sweater won’t fit. I’m not going to try it on, especially not in front of you.” I told him.
I could see he was disappointed. I was feeling like an ass, but what was I gonna do? Put on something too tight and hope for the best?
“Oh..I screwed up, then?”
“No, you didn’t screw up. It’s the thought that counts. I think you just see me as smaller than I really am, and while I’m flattered, I’m also embarrassed because I’m not the tiny girl you’re envisioning.”
Needless to say, my boyfriend took the sweater back and bought me beautiful necklace instead. We broke up three weeks later (not over the sweater, but I’m sure that had something to do with it.) I never wore the necklace again (I think I re-gifted it to my sister for her birthday the following March).
Stupid, too small sweater. Worst present ever.
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