Does anyone else think the rapture is coming or is it just me? It’s God damn Christmas in two days and I just walked outside without a coat on. What? And the meteorologists are all like, “::::nerd voice::: record shattering temperatures …. GLAVIN!” No. Let’s be real, it’s the end of days, right? Like this isn’t normal.
Besides that, what the fuck do you wear to Christmas? Not that I like to get all fancy pants in front of my fam (sorry guys, you know I look like a gargoyle deep down, the gig is up). But a girl wants to look at least presentable, right?
I tried to stay festive on Thanksgiving with my brown cable knit, turtle neck sweater, and you know what? I was sweating my balls off the entire time to the point where my aunt was like, “for the love of God, go change,” and I refused because dammit I was being festive!
But if you follow me on social channels, you know I loathe being hot and sweating and that I want to start a one woman show called, “Die, Humidity, Die … COLON … I just sweated through my bra.” So therefore I no longer give a shit about looking festive. As much as I want to wear my fur snood, tights, and festive sweater (that I don’t own), I’m saying to hell with it.
Instead, and brace yourselves for this one, mama is exposing her legs on Christmas Eve by wearing an awesome skirt I own, SANS TIGHTS. Oh yeah. It’s happening. I’m giving everyone advanced notice to shield their eyes from the pale and probably rather hairy (shush, it’s winter, my razor goes into hibernation) mess that is about to come out of hiding. But don’t worry, I’ll shave prior, I’m not that much of a beast … simmah.
It truly disturbs me more than you know that I have to expose parts of my body this time of year that normally are in hiding under bulky sweaters and very focused on getting fat. It’s horrific. Like my arms. I haven’t looked at my arms in weeks. I have no idea what the hell is going on over there, besides lack of muscle definition and see-through paleness. So yeah … nothing great, kids.
So if you are bummed out about not being able to be festively chic this Christmas, I’m with you, truly I am. It sucks. But hey, if the end of times are really upon us, mine as well be comfy. So I say whip out your maxi dresses and skirts. It’s totally unnatural (I know), but it is better than being a hot sweaty mess while you’re eating your weight in carbs and drinking your weight in wine.
What can I say, this Christmas we are all going to get a lot views of very pale giggly bits …