Christmas is a story of blissful perfection that the entire world has been conditioned to buy into. It has become more of a secular holiday; the whole Jesus-born-in-Bethlehem scene seems to get glossed over. Paying religious homage to the festive season is one way to spend Christmas; a midnight mass at church being a particularly transcendent experience, because even if you lack religious devotion it gets the mind working to encourage all those happy thoughts that most of us spend repressing for the entire year.
But the loving, gift-giving Santa Claus side of Christmas isn’t too bad either. The facade of apathy falls away, and it becomes much easier to expose the soft side of ourselves that has been festering inside. Moving into the modern era of Christmas as a commercial holiday does not mean an end to tradition, because families scattered worldwide still put aside their differences and get together to revel in the feast.
The gastronomic combination is welcome on our turkey-loving palettes, accompanied by a bit of cranberry sauce and roast potatoes. It seems as though it is everyone’s birthday all at once as merry felicitations are exchanged as everyone crowds around the table of classics. There’s usually enough food for all so when asked “Who doesn’t eat on Christmas?” try not to fall for the ruse. Otherwise you’re stuck with the cheesy festive hilarity of “A turkey because it’s away stuffed.”
What happens when the promise of familial reunion falls away? Not all of us may have the perfect Christmas this year, in fact, most people seem to be disillusioned with the perfect white Christmas. The cheer falls away and winter drives us into a depressed slump; resulting in a nation of cynics trying to get through the forced cheer infringing on our lives. We get the people that are ready to revitalise themselves with New Year’s Resolutions, ensuring the memberships of local gyms have a surge in sales around January time – lasting only the month. But hey at least we try right?
There are the fellow females who ditch the beauty pressures of the industry and opt for the more comfortable and natural state of a female unleashed in the wild. Legs grow out into forests, unless we’re already up. In which case, we move with the agility and conviction of a sloth as we crawl out of bed. We ladies also go through December shock, as all the lumberjack hunks (with bumfluff attempts at facial hair) spontaneously shed them and shock the female population with their baby faces.
The woes of Christmas are endless but making the effort to enjoy them, be it sincerely or sarcastically, enlivens the Christmas spirit within and makes the holiday just about bearable. So if you’re spending it with family; or getting pissed on overpriced shots in a club; or in front of the TV watching Love Actually for the millionth time; know that you’re not alone in loving/hating the most festive of seasons.
Whether you’re taking the cynical approach or not, we wish all CUB readers a very merry Christmas.
Thank you for keeping up with us this year, and we’ll see you all in 2017.