Every year around this time, the more critical part of me writes a post poking fun at Christmas. It stops short of being a full-on attack on this global tradition, but it's not exactly a warm endorsement either. It's more of a bittersweet reflection.

I guess my problem is that I've been carrying a heavy disappointment since that day, decades ago, when I learned the truth about the bearded guy in red.

Still, my approach to Christmas hasn't changed one iota. But in my defense, I'll say that I've learned that if you want miracles to happen, you have to get your butt in gear. That respect and affection must be earned, not expected, and that LOVE wasn't a cheesy word until it became fashionable and profitable to print it in glitter on everything.

Christmas is coming, and so is winter. I’m not planning to go all out with tinsel and glitter, but I won't be battening down the hatches this year either. I'll just let the chips fall where they may, although I'll keep my fingers crossed and try to ho-ho-ho a bit more than last year. I think it won't kill me to enjoy some of the recurring Christmas stuff, like buying a few lottery tickets, listening to Mariah Carey's iconic song without turning myself green/rolling my eyes too much, and overeating a bit. Who knows? Maybe by the time the New Year rolls around, I'll be a rich, overweight fan of the Queen of Christmas. Not so bad.

I’d also like to take the opportunity that Journaly gives me to wish everyone a Merry Berry Christmas!🥂✨🍇

*Picture by Freepick