Brassiere Syncronicity and Freaky Santa

(Inspired by Deek, Laurie and Liza.)

Yesterday, after airport security performed a fetishistic worship of my lipsticks and ladythings ... (Thank god for rubber gloves. Why does every authority figure suspect me of being the kind of woman who would secrete illicit chemicals in her lipstick? I was wearing conservative business casual apparel.)

...while watching a strange middle aged couple in uniform handle my dirty panties and bras, I realized that I absolutely must go shopping. Within one week, every bra I own has busted beyond repair -- snapped straps and broken underwire peeking out of rents and tears...very embarassing and even more uncomfortable. What kind of evil syncronicity causes all of your bras to break at the same time; and then subjects you to a luggage search?

Then, while walking through the concourse and mentally dreading going home because of all of the work ahead of me, as well as countless hours of Christmas and bra shopping with money that was all going to the mechanic, I was suddenly jolted by The Christmas Spirit because Santa Claus was sitting in the airport. Sure, he was wearing a red baseball cap and polo instead of his fur-trimmed sleigh gear, but we were in Florida!

So how excited do you think I got when after buckling my seatbelt, Santa boarded the very same plane? Then he sat directly across the aisle from me. Very much under my breath I wonderously whispered "Santa?" and he shot me a dirty look!!! OK, Santa Man, I appreciate that you must get that all the time, but you choose to wear your snow white hair long and with a matching beard. You have a big round belly. IT'S DECEMBER AND YOU ARE WEARING RED! Come on...

Maybe I'm on the Naughty List.


Everything about Christmas makes me feel so inadequate. At Christmas, I feel like a greedy, gluttonous, capitalist pig who lacks the gumption to stand up to the festival machine of consumption. I also feel like an inadequate mother, because I can't get all excited and decoratey like my mom and aunties and sisters. I feel inadequate financially, because it's always such an expensive venture, and finally, I feel inadequate as an American, because I'd rather get searched by airport security than go shopping.

Plus, this year the kid spends Christmas with his dad.

And above is Freaky Santa -- loved by my sisters, but aptly named by me.

'Tis the season for freakishness!