Merry Christmas! Love, She Eats.

Merry Christmas, everybody!

I hope you’re all having a very joyful Christmas morning filled with family, friends, laughter, love, presents, stockings, or whatever makes your hearts happy.

While I initially considered doing a Christmas post on my favorite Christmas songs (not really apropos here) or favorite Christmas recipes (far more pertinent, but played out), I eventually decided that those were entirely boring.  Instead, I figured I’d let you all have a laugh at my expense as I share some pictures from Christmases past:

Christmas 1982

This was my mother’s third and final attempt at getting me onto this strange man’s lap. You can tell that I’d been crying for about sixteen hours straight by this point by how puffy and unfocused my eyes are.

I also like the fact that the harvest gold velour chair gives the entire tableau a creepy, “come see Santa in his living room, little girl” vibe. You have to give the man points for the awesome handlebar mustache, though.

Christmas 1983

A year later, I was much happier to sit on Santa’s lap. I attribute this entirely to the fact that there’s an actual holiday backdrop, as opposed to what looked like some dude’s seafoam green basement the year before.

The placement of Santa’s hands in this photo is entirely discomforting, however. I hope that he was just admiring my corduroy jumper.

Christmas 1984

By 1984 (or possibly 1985, I really have no idea), we were back to the creepy, sullen Santa model. For my part, I’m oblivious to the gaze of death that Santa is giving the photographer, one that reads “This had better be the last goddamned child today; I can’t feel my legs and my beard smells like formula and Elmer’s glue.”

Also, believe it or not, this was not taken inside of Space Mountain. True story.

Christmas 1986

1986 was a happier year, with a happier Santa and a happier background. You’ll note that I’m in my private school uniform, complete with blinding white tights and bow that looks like a small bat died on my head.

1987 would not find me in the same uniform, as I was taken out of private school and thrust into the wilds of the public school system for reasons too legion to elaborate upon here.

—

Here’s looking at you, kids, and wishing you all the best this Christmas.  From the bottom of my hear, thank you all for reading, commenting, emailing, and just generally being awesome readers.  I couldn’t ask for more this Christmas than y’all.

Advertisement