Now that we’re in that lull between Christmas and New Year where shops (and my gym) think it’s totally OK to dick me about and open whenever the hell they want, I have a lot of time to myself. Translation: I’ll probably be updating this frequently.
Christmas day saw us (me and Ian) wake up around 8, and then make the adult decision to go back to sleep for as long as possible. This only lasted until 9:30 am, when we dragged ourselves through to the living room and had breakfast. I indulged in toast with brandy butter. If you have never had brandy butter, your Christmas is lacking. Then we moved onto presents.
Now, I am not usually inundated with gifts. My family lives thousands of miles away (in Texas, and Australia, and Italy), and we don’t really bother sending birthday/Christmas presents. Instead, I get spoiled during my annual visits, which suits everyone because things aren’t overpriced and there are less crowds. But being the only person in my family in the country isn’t all bad, because I occasionally get pity presents.
Case in point: my colleagues pretty much all have children/family to buy stuff for and get stressed about. I have Ian. I felt kind of bad, so bought them relatively inexpensive (but thoughtful) gifts and put them into their pigeonholes at work with a card saying ‘from Santa’. While they eventually figured out who ‘Santa’ was (one of the gifts was a lanyard from the Natural History museum in Houston, where I had been in October), I never confirmed my role in the gift giving. Anyway, on the last day of term, I arrived to see a sack (a John Lewis carrier bag) with four gifts and a card saying’ Merry Christmas, from ‘The Elves’. I know I have a soul, because I got a little emotional at that.
Anyway, 4 gifts from work, 2 from Ian, one from my Fetch Secret Santa, two from Grant (we usually agree beforehand whether to buy gifts for each other and a budget), as well as a gift from Ian’s mum. I had scored this year! I did also get a secret Santa present from work, but it was so disappointing that my friend actually bought it off me for £1 when I let him use my washing machine, so that will not be mentioned again.
Pictured: Ryan Gosling colouring book (Grant), coasters (Grant), CW-X Revolution tights (Ian), tea-towel, marshmallows, hot chocolate packets, Shakespeare sticky notes (the ‘Elves’), lap counter/timer (Ian), and Australian money (in card from Australian grandparents).
Not pictured: Mango liquorice (‘Elves’ – eaten), Ian’s mum’s gift (worthy of its own post that will feature further on), ‘Liell’s present’ (more on this to come as well) and Fetch Secret Santa gift (ditto).
I was exceptionally happy with Ian’s gifts, and took the tights out for an 8 mile Christmas run. The air was crisp. The sun was shining (though the Scottish winter sun is low/blinding). The drunks were still out from the night before, but otherwise the streets were abandoned. The photo below was taken several hours after my run, but it’s pretty, so it stays.
What I did not realize about the tights (translation: I was blinded by all the pretty colours and did not fully read the product description because I assumed they’d be like my other CW-X tights), is that they have been designed to be thin. Very thin. 14% lighter than your average tight, apparently. I squeezed into them and admired the aforementioned pretty colours:
And then I did the obligatory ‘how does my ass look in these’ pose in the bathroom mirror to conclude that the answer was ‘visible’:
Yes, that’s my right butt-cheek, adorned with festive red and white underwear, and a particularly sheer panel in the running tights. A quick search online let me know that I was not the only one to think parts of these tights were verging on ‘indecent’, but whatever, RAINBOWS! Reasoning that hardly anyone would be out on Christmas day, I opted not to go commando/change into nude underwear, and to just go for a run. Of course I ran into a small group of kids I teach about half a mile from home. Of course I did.
Back home and showered, I gave my attention to my Fetch secret Santa gift. When I opened it, I wasn’t entirely sure what to make of it. At first, I thought it was a scarf, but I realized it was just a loop. It was too big to be a buff, but too small to be a snood. It was very cosy, and a very nice colour though:
With some experimentation, I figured out a way to wear it that was comfortable, and flattering. I am still not sure if this is how it was intended to be worn, but this is how it’s going to happen for me:
Sidenote: my hair is actually curly, but I choose to straighten the crap out of it because it is also very fine, and goes limp very quickly. Essentially, I look a bit scrappy.
And now we move onto Liell’s present. Liell is a friend of ours who has featured a few times so far in this blog. He is an interesting character, and highly entertaining, but also eternally puzzling. Anyway, Liell decided that it would be ‘hilarious’ to ‘wrap’ our Christmas present in Plaster of Paris instead of traditional wrapping paper. Maybe this has something to do with him being a Jew (a sort of anti-Christmas silent protest, if you will). I would bet it has more to do with the fact that he thought it would be a fun thing to do. At the time. On Christmas Eve, we were presented with this:
And on Christmas day, Ian and I had no choice but to open the present like this:
Despite getting plaster dust all over the packaging (and somewhat destroying the packaging in the process of unwrapping), we emerged victorious:
A children’s puzzle toy. Definitely worth the effort, Liell. Thank you.
And finally, we move onto my gift from Ian’s mum. I did not get too excited about this gift for two reasons:
- Ian repeatedly told me, “Don’t get too excited about it.”
- Ian repeatedly reminded me that he had the receipt.
Last week, Ian ran out of fresh boxers and asked to borrow a pair of underwear to last him until he could get home and wash some clothes. Obviously, I gave him a sensible pair of white briefs that came as part of a set with a cute bra, and that I have worn a grand total of zero times. His mother, seeing the delicate item in amongst his washing, somehow got it stuck in her head that this is the type of underwear that I wear all the time, and that I could do with some more. Which I guess it kind of sweet, but mostly a bit weird. Like, it’s weird if my own mother buys me underwear because it’s something that touches my vagina, and my vagina is something used for sex. Sex and mothers DO NOT MIX. Nevertheless, my final Christmas present was a pack of these racy numbers (and a gift receipt):
Also, please ignore the Bambi pyjama bottoms. They were cheap and the fabric is unbelievably soft.
All in all, a very successful year, gift-wise, even though Santa, the lazy git, never put anything in my stocking. Not even coal. How about you guys? Did you get any amazing presents? Or better yet, any seriously bad ones? Seriously, you can vent about it here. I will definitely not take a screenshot of your complaints, stalk you and your relatives aggressively, and send the gift-giver a copy of your complaint. I will definitely not do that.