In Defense of the Christmas Sweater

I'm here today to represent all those who are being discriminated against this holiday season—the poor saps of the world who wear with pride their blinking ornament earrings, who cheerfully participate in the Secret Santa gift exchanges at the office, and who gather their families in front of their gaudily-decorated artificial tree to pose in their pajamas for a Christmas picture. If we don't make a stand now against the sophisticates who mock us for our Santa hats and tins of fudge, we will surely pay.

Have we learned nothing from history?? Do you not remember the Grinches from the 70s who set out on a campaign to stigmatize fruit cakes? Just look at what's happened. When's the last time you bit into a heavenly piece of stöllen bread lightly slathered with rum butter and savored the sweet goodness of moist apricot? First the fruit cake . . . then the homemade fudge . . . it's a slippery slope. Why don't you just serve me some store-bought cookies while singing Grandma Got Run Over by a Reindeer and ruin my December altogether? If you really want to drive a nail in my coffin, correct me with a stern "Happy Holidays, ma'am," after I've wished you the politically incorrect "Merry Christmas."

People! Wake up! The same Scrooges who convinced us fruit cakes were tacky are on the move again. This time they've got Christmas sweaters in their sights. Apparently those of us who wear 'em are fat, forty, and frumpy. Well, I may be all of those things, but at least I'm festive. And fun. And free-spirited. See? I'm handy with the F-words, too. There's another one I'm thinking of, but it's Christmas, so I'll refrain.

One woman's frump is another woman's festive.

Mommy, why did that mean lady call me tacky?

Shhh, baby. That lady's better than us . . .

she decorates her fresh tree with
gold ribbon and Victorian ornaments.

Dinner last night: barbecue ribs, mashed potatotes