Holiday Fashion Faux Pas

faux pas n. pl.
A violation of accepted social norms, customs or etiquette, varying widely from culture to culture, usually used in social and diplomatic contexts; a blunder, especially a social blunder.  A fashion faux pas occurs when the error is directly related to a person's appearance or choice of clothing.

When I was flying to Vegas in December of 2010, I saved the copy of Sky Magazine from my flight.  Why?  Well, for one thing, I was enamored with the beautiful photos and illustrations of Great Escapes, hoping to some day -- SOME DAY -- be lucky enough to make it to even one of these yummy places.  But mostly because I could so relate to the hilarious quote by Clinton Kelly, the style editor of the magazine, from his article entitled "Party Poopers," specifically, his take on holiday sweaters and the heed to refrain from wearing "red and green" to holiday events. 

I couldn't help but notice, once again THIS year, the many holiday sweaters, vests, sweatshirts, and other obnoxious adornments that people -- women -- chose to wear in their feeble attempt to look festive.  This is one of those pressing times when one feels led to make a nationwide public service announcement to women who choose to drag these atrocities from their closets each year and dare wear them in public.  (Spare us all and clean/update your closets:  BURN THEM)

We've all seen them. 

Enough already!  ... she nauseously pleaded.

And so sharing Clinton Kelly's sentiments on holiday fashion faux pas, remembering how I giggled aloud when I first read this article on my flight, I decided to include excerpts from it in my blog.  Point well taken, CK.

Your Sweater Should Not Light Up
Any garment featuring appliqued snowmen, snowflakes, elves, reindeer, Christmas trees, candy canes, holly leaves or Santa faces must be destroyed immediately.  There's a law.  In fact, if you are in possession of a sweater or vest that plays "Jingle Bells" or illuminates in any way, you will be deported.  OK.  I'm kidding about the law, but seriously, people, this is not cute!

Red and Green?  No thank you.
When kids play elves in the school play, the teacher tells them to wear a red or green sweater.  Then she makes them little caps out of construction paper.  When you show up at a holiday party wearing a red or green sweater, you look like a 9-year-old with a glandular condition who lost his cap.

Let Every Heart Prepare Him Room

My Christmas prayer...

that every heart would indeed

find room for Him in their hearts.

Christmas Eve Candlelight Service...it's the nexus of my family's celebration of Christmas every year, a re-enactment of the Nativity story, narrated with scripture and punctuated with carols, instrumentals, and solos throughout, special lighting -- including a suspended beautiful Star of Bethlehem -- special effects, and a revolving stage in the round.

The part of Baby Jesus was played this year by a two-month old baby girl --
stunningly beautiful child, with dark hair and eyes (her father is from India), and she smiled and cooed at "Mary and Joseph" all throughout.  My oldest son played the part of one of the kings, proudly wearing his gold costume as he came to worship the Baby, bearing his gifts, and bowing in praise -- a gesture not of acting, but with utmost sincerity and flowing freely from the core of his heart and soul.  Each year, though I've heard (and watched) this story countless times, I am brought to tears by its beauty and simplicity.  It's as if I'm hearing the story for the first time. 

The service ends with the lighting of candles, each person passing his flame to the next, then with candles held high in the darkness of the room, we softly sing Silent Night, then extinguish our candles and leave the church quietly and reverently.

This IS Christmas.  This is the story.

God's GIFT TO THE WORLD.

May we all find room in our hearts for His Gift of Love to us.

COMFORT and JOY

I found myself in dire need of comfort yesterday afternoon.  It's Christmastime again, and I miss my mom.  A lot.  More than last year even.  The hole in my heart -- in my world -- is wrecking me.  It isn't working, trying to stay occupied, busy.  Nothing is enough distraction to make me stop thinking about her, about how much I miss her.  How I need her.

Finally, after spending the entire afteroon yesterday jumping from task to unfinished task, a desperate attempt to deny and suppress the gnawling ache of my emotions, I decided to eat Cheesy Bread from Little Caesar's. (What? I don't really even LIKE Cheesy Bread.) I ate a few sticks, then tore the cheese off the top of the rest of it, ate the cheese, and threw all the rest of it away, washing it down with a DIET A&W Rootbeer. Diet. Of course, diet.

I later ate jelly beans.  Old ones.  I don't much like jelly beans either.  And I ate a few Chipins -- chips made from popcorn.  Now those WERE satisfying. 

And then it dawned on me:  The only thing you have accomplished in eating this shit is making yourself sick, bloated, and miserable.  It was a very tiny -- TEENY TINY -- bandaid on the gaping wound of your bleeding heart.  It wasn't enough.  Nothing is.  There is no elixir for this kind of hurt.

So why did I eat that food?  I asked myself:  WHY IN THE HELL DID YOU EAT THIS SHIT? 

And then I found myself face to face with my dilemma:  I'm hurting. 

Stop running from it.  You can't run from it.  You can't cover it up.  You can't drink it away, or eat it away.  It is what it is.  Relentless.

I must come to terms with this emotion.

Comfort food is only gonna make matters worse.

There is no TRUE COMFORT in comfort food.  It's temporary 'JOY,' but it is not comforting.

A lesson I've had to learn over and over and over again.

"There's a compelling reason for the pint of premium ice cream in the freezer, the supply of candy bars in the office desk drawer, or the collection of cereal boxes in the pantry. These are all examples of comfort food, those concoctions which provide a sense of nostalgia or self-satisfaction for the consumer. Comfort food is not designed to be especially healthy or politically correct, but it supplies a welcomed respite from the stresses of the outside world."