The Grinch

By Erin McLean

If you ask anybody who knows me what my feelings are towards Christmas, they will probably tell you that I despise the whole holiday season. Some, including myself, have used the term ‘Grinch’ to describe me, and despite not being green or living in a mountain, I won’t deny this, but I would like to set some things straight.

I do not hate joy or spending time with loved ones, I am present at most gatherings that have an open bar, and I have been known to make the occasional child or senior smile. Nor am I being spiteful because I am single and wish to partake in all the ‘coupley’ activities that run rampant cute-couple-christmas-pictures-29s59cxtduring the holidays. I am spiteful for other reasons; I am perfectly comfortable drinking eggnog with my roommate and dog (as long as there is rum in mine), I would rather make a gingerbread house by myself because then I wouldn’t have to share, and, last time I checked, you didn’t have to be nauseating to be capable of ordering a peppermint latte. Did I say nauseating? Oops. I meant in love. Darn you, autocorrect!

Okay, okay. I know what you’re thinking: How is someone who is clearly so hilarious and sociable a hater of the holiday season? I wouldn’t call myself a hater, per say. I am not one of those people who finds it enjoyable to hate things – trust me, I find it exhausting. I prefer to describe my stance as someone who is an avoider of things that I associate with difficult memories. Suffice it to say, I avoid a lot of things and I have gotten quite exceptional at it. This is a skill that, I would like to add, has proven useful to me in numerous other facets of my life, including but not limited to: dating, eye contact with professors, and dodgeball. Continue reading

Advertisements