As we get older, Christmas gifts have a tendency of getting more expensive and less whimsical. Barbie’s Dream House is replaced with four-inch Louboutin heels and it’s exciting, yes, but also a bit sad. I don’t remember the last time I received a gift that legitimately made me smile. That’s not to say that friends, family and sundry now-ex-boyfriends haven’t been thoughtful and generous. Because they have. The fault is more mine than anyone else’s. You see, I’m one of those conniving gift receivers that subtly lays the tracks for future presents weeks in advance. By the time the holiday finally arrives, I’ve subconsciously given people no other choice but to get me what I want. Devious though it may be, it’s a method I’ve perfected.
The thing is, this year I want a gift that’s almost impervious to my underhanded hinting and suggestions: ice skates. I’ve spent so many years going after clothes, shoes and that ilk, that I’m fairly convinced everyone just thinks my ice skate dreams are a joke. On top of that, I don’t actually ice skate (well, hardly ever), so even I have to admit that the gift request is a bit perplexing. I can’t even really explain why I want them, given that I don’t expect to ice skate more than annually even if I own my own skates. (Which of course, would be nicer rather than renting those ugly, diseased-looking ones.)
I guess there’s just something sweet about a pretty but impractical gift like that. Sure, it takes me back to the days of yore and the skating birthday parties that were all the rage. But, more than that, someone giving me ice skates would be a small reminder that gifts weren’t always sneakily planned so far in advance.
*Totally unrelated: I wear a size 7 and like those pretty white ones. Just saying.