As a youngster, I used to cry when I received gifts I hadn't asked
for because I felt so guilty that I was receiving an overabundance thereof when I knew that many kids weren't getting any at all. Now when that happens, though I know my mom is just being motherly when she can't resist buying physical objects instead of requested gift cards, I turn into a grumpy misanthrope who goes off on a feminist rant about
the sexual coercion tactics of "Baby, It's Cold Outside" while my family tries to retain some
Christmas morning cheer despite a noticeable lack of tree and snow. But more than some holier-than-thou refusal of presents that stems from an overwhelming generosity of heart (because goodness knows I rarely get off my lazy ass in service to others*), what it comes down to is that I'm not good at faking appreciation or
accepting surprises, and I really would rather have something practical
(like money, instant coffee, or, yes, even a novel) than yet another tchotchke.
I think this means that I officially prefer Thanksgiving—all the food and family,
but without the materialism and
acquisition-of-stuff-I-will-never-use-but-need-to-pretend-to-be-thrilled-with-anyway.
*I do always ask for donations to various charities, though, but none, to my knowledge, were filled this year—which is especially weird given that you'd think my parents would be more willing to contribute toward research that could find a cure for their daughter than giving her novelty toys... but maybe once I am myself a mother, this insistence on unwrapping bulky items instead of simply opening envelopes will be made clear.
