That's What She Said: Felix Navi-dud
- Dawn Dumont | December 16, 2013
They say that it's better to give than to receive and that saying is right on the money when it comes to Christmas gifts from your loved ones because their gifts suck. They are the people who know you the best, except when it comes to anything about your hopes, dreams or desires. To our family and friends, we are basically people with familiar-looking faces who use those faces to swallow more than our fair share of the turkey stuffing.
One Christmas when I was 11, my grandmother gave me a True Story magazine. To the uninitiated, True Story magazines were dedicated to telling the sad stories of women. Actually the word "sad" barely scratches the surface these women's lives were like desperation on steroids. The stories were advertised as true, but I pray that they were not, as they had titles like: "I accidentally Married my Brother" or "My Husband Had Another Family and Now They Live Next Door and They're Always Having Loud Parties!" or The Alien Who Dumped me: He Star Treked Right On My Heart."
My grandma bought me the magazine because she thought that I was out of the Barbie doll stage. She was wrong, I was firmly in the middle of my Barbie Doll addiction and when my younger sister unwrapped a doll, my nails dug into my glossy magazine, my expression mirroring the wretched expression of the model on its cover. I expressed my gratitude to my grandmother but only after being gently prodded by my mom to: "stop crying, you ungrateful brat, and go thank your granny."
Once I read my True Story, I enjoyed it a lot. It was basically a printed form of the Maury Povich show and taught me that people can overcome anything: poverty, bad relationships or accidentally getting shot by your cat.
Fast-forward a few Christmas Eves to when my siblings and I were teens. My dad decided that he'd buy us clothes for Christmas. A rhinoceros attempting to drive a car had a better chance of success. I blame his over-confidence on TV dads; perhaps he'd seen one too many Cosby shows?
I opened my gift and knew it was gonna be bad as soon as I saw the glint of tomato red. I hissed inwardly as I unwrapped further and saw that it was jeans. My dad had bought me... red jeans. It gets worse. They were one size too small, too long, wide-legged and clearly cut for someone who had a waist.
My dad insisted that we wear our new clothes to Christmas dinner and I waddled angrily into the dining room, my pants sweeping the floor and my torso divided in half like a florid bumble-bee. (All pictures have been destroyed.)
Please note that while I am judging my loved ones, I am no in no way implying that I am better than them - for I, too, am a shitty gift giver. I'm the person standing in Walmart sock aisle on Christmas Eve wishing that I had an imagination or a basic understanding of human desires. So far, the worst gift I've ever given was to my boyfriend. We were in the early stages of our relationship, at that awkward part where you care, but only as much as they care, because god knows, you never want to be the one that cares more! (That is the worst.)
I didn't know what his tastes were (other than short, sarcastic brunettes) probably because I didn't really pay attention when he spoke. What can I say? He was good looking. For his gift I combed the entire city for two day before I found something that was nice, innocuous and most importantly, cheap.
I still remember my anxiety as he opened the gift and the wonder in his voice as he asked, "A ring?" Yes, I gave a ring to my boyfriend of three months - just in case anyone was wondering if I've always been this socially awkward.
The ring fit but only on his ring finger, ironically. Whenever he wore it, we both felt uncomfortable. This is the mark of a good gift; it shows that our family and friends may never understand us but at least they're willing to try.