For years now, folks, I’ve been asking one very simple thing of Lance: “Can we have fun ornaments on our tree this year, PLEEEEEASE?”
And Lance’s response, every year, is, “Ugh, God, no! It’ll look so tacky, like a dollar store toy aisle threw up in our house. Are you even gay?”
It’s true, readers: I’m apparently not gay, because I just don’t “get” the Stylish Tree. Sure, all the ornaments are the same and the uniformity appeals to my sense of symmetry, but where’s the heart, the spirit in that tree? Stylish Trees are like good-looking people: pretty on the outside but vapid and soulless on the inside. (I just say this to feel better about myself ::looks into a mirror, then begins to silently cry::)
Much like my personal fashion sense, I want a tree that’s not put-together. Instead of fifty of the same silver ornaments, I want ornaments that mean something, that carry some weight (also much like myself). Decorating the Christmas tree when I was growing up was an event unto itself, a walk down memory lane as each ornament had a story behind it. “This is an ornament we got the year you were born,” or “Ooh, this is the ornament you made us in fourth grade because you were too unmotivated to get a child labor job, you lazy bum.” The ornaments ran the gamut of design, from handmade baked clay and paper to plastic to professional, hand-painted porcelain. My parents’ tree was, and is, a hodgepodge, a mishmash, a glorious pastiche (there, regained my gay card) of memories.
That tree has soul. If a gay Christmas tree is “put-together,” then I wanted the straightest-ass tree possible.
So, it was with true elation that I stumbled upon an extra Christmas tree in our storage closet, which we thought we threw away and had replaced. TWO TREES! I thought. WE HAVE TWO TREES! Suddenly, my dream, previously squashed with venomous glee by my husband, had life breathed into it.
“Fine, you can set up the second tree,” Lance obliged, “but not in any place where other people can see it! I have a reputation to uphold here!”
And I did. The second tree is now up in the bedroom. But unfortunately, lacking in memories. Since we haven’t purchased ornaments over the past few, formative years of our relationship, the tree is currently sporting a whopping two–TWO–ornaments, both related to Dunkin’ Donuts (hot and iced coffee cups, because we’re thorough). My tree is looking a little sparse.
I shared this disappointment with my mom, who rightly pointed out that it took my parents 35 years to amass their ornament collection, which they have to keep in rotation because they now have more than can fit on the tree. “It’s a blessing…and a curse,” she admitted.
Does this mean I have to wait another 29 Christmases to have a completely full tree, full of MEMORIES?? NOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!