Holiday boycott.

The more I think about it, the more the idea grows on me.

Holidays have always filled me with dread. Well, the overly analytical, ridiculously sensitive child that I was. That I am.

I hated the idea that we were playing “favorites” every holiday season. One Thanksgiving with Mother’s side of the family. The next with Dad’s.

Christmas Eve was relegated to Dad’s side, Christmas Day was reserved for Mother’s. And everyone made allowances for us because of my parents’ divorce.

My dad’s sister always schedules Thanksgiving dinner early enough these days so that we may go to my Mother’s side as well. We ALWAYS open presents on Christmas Eve with my Dad’s side, so that we can spend Christmas Day with Mother’s side.

Even though, personally, I always felt presents should be opened immediately upon waking up Christmas Day.

Meh.

I’ll just stay home this season. Better yet, I’ll be even more defiant and simply treat myself to my own sumptuous feast.

It’s been asked of me whether I’d only boycott family time during the holidays. Well, ladies and gents, I think it would only be right of me to completely boycott everything. I wouldn’t think much of myself if I ditched my family to celebrate the holidays with other people’s families.

Meh. I’m angry. And confused. And, for lack of a better word at the moment, feeling mighty alone.

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