Fa la la la Freakout

The holidays, while still enjoyable, are an overall different experience for people with anxiety. Here's my naughty list: 

1. Dirty Santa. We sit there fidgeting at the planning session. Kelly talks about how she's bringing her famous seven-layer dip in the shape of a Christmas tree (you go, girl. You defy science and get that not to mold into a blob. O Blob-Blob Tree, O Blob-Blob Tree). Anyway, everyone picks a finger food and then there's always that one person who pipes up, "And what about Dirty Santa? Everyone loves Dirty Santa. Bring a $5 gag gift." 

This just in: not everyone loves Dirty Santa. Some people do good to just get actual Christmas gifts that have been specified. You can tell me you want a purse and I will stare at a rack of purses like if I pull off the wrong one, a terrorizing Krampus is going to hop out and tie me up with tinsel. 

So take this already tense ball of Christmas cheer and tell her that she has to be clever and hipsterly ironic for $5 and we're talking fa-la-la-la freakout. 

I could wrap up a pack of toilet paper. It's like, haha, everybody goes to the bathroom. No. That's stupid and not ironic. What if I got a calendar with animals? Nope. Some people like animals so it wouldn't be a gag gift. Repeat this until the day before party.

2. Black Friday. No. Just no. You might as well put me in a straight jacket and watch me try to Hatchimal.

3. Ugly Christmas Sweaters. This goes back to my complete inability to be hipsterly ironic. I have spent my life (unsuccessfully at times) trying not to look like Frumpy McFrumperston. But now people are like, "Wear an ugly, shapeless sweater out in public. It will be fun!" Taming my party anxiety is not soothed by having real ornaments hanging on by a thread off my body. Rudolph's overly sized face also does not do my body insecurities any favors.

4. Mariah Carey songs playing at a million decibels in Old Navy. I don't want a lot for  Christmas, there is just one thing I need: and that's for Mariah to calm down. I go in looking for a peacoat and I leave in handcuffs for homicide. And I just wanted a peacoat. Thanks, Mariah. I hope it was worth it. (I wonder if I sneak out my prison jumpsuit, if it will make a funny dirty Santa gift next year?)

5. Gift Equality. You're standing there. You exchange gifts. She opens up hers and she's like, "Oh, body lotion, I love it." And then you open yours and it's a thoughtful, handmade gift that's like if your soul vacated your body and became an object. Red alert, red alert. Times this by a thousand if someone brings you a gift and you don't have one for them. 

Merry Christmas to everyone, especially my fellow nervous Nellies. If I wasn't so anxious, I would host a party for us so we could burn Mariah CDs and turn ugly sweaters into sweaters for our pets.