Total pages in book: 49
Estimated words: 47241 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 236(@200wpm)___ 189(@250wpm)___ 157(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 47241 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 236(@200wpm)___ 189(@250wpm)___ 157(@300wpm)
Well, my parents were religious, too—super Catholics—which was why I knew he’d missed some major points about kindness. His words were truly cruel and most definitely intended for everyone to hear, which was why the other boys in class, and even some of the girls, had laughed.
The only one who stuck up for me was Kay, and though I’d gained a best friend that day—something I was eternally grateful for—the damage was done. From that day forward, I got the illegitimate reputation for being a ho bag. A slut. An easy score. My D-cups didn’t help defuse the situation either, so I also gained a phobia.
I was so terrified of even looking at a boy and being accused of sluttism that I didn’t have my first real relationship until college.
After a year, my ex and I broke up because he said I was uptight and way too concerned about what other people thought. Also, he hated Christmas. Was never going to work out.
The strange part was, my last boyfriend, Mike, loved Christmas, but he’d said the same thing: I was too self-conscious. But who wouldn’t be after what I’d gone through in high school? The boys wanted to date me for all the wrong reasons, and the girls hated me for getting attention. Kay and a handful of other friends kept me sane through it all.
I was twenty-nine now—on the precipice of thirty—and I’d be single for the holidays again. If it weren’t for Kay and her unwavering friendship, I’d probably just give up on romance and marry a cucumber.
“You’re right,” I said and drew a deep, fortifying breath. What I was about to say next would not sit well with the hungry holiday monster inside. “I made a promise, and this year, I’m keeping it.”
Kay glanced at the stuff in my cart and folded her toned arms over her flat chest. “Then put it all back.”
I arched a brow. This stuff is ten percent off!
“I’m serious, Meri. Put it back. If you’re keeping your promise—which you’d better—then you won’t spend a dime on Christmas this year.”
“I said I’d scale back. And I will. But I still have to decorate for my party.”
“Then let everyone chip in for the food,” she suggested. “I’ll bake a big cake.”
“I can’t invite people over and then ask them to bring their own food.” How tacky. Plus, my food was always special and went with a theme.
“You can if you throw a potluck,” she argued.
I gave her a dirty look.
“Okay, then at least use the stuff in your storage locker. You’ll save a ton of money on decorations.” She grabbed the plastic Santa from my cart, sending the packages of lights tumbling to the floor.
Oh no! They’ll never twinkle now.
She went on, “And don’t even start, because I know for a fact that you have five of these Santas already.”
I went in for St. Nick, reclaiming him from her hands. “The red paint fades. I always get a new one. He deserves to look his best.”
She took back plastic Santa. “Then buy a two-dollar tube of red paint from the craft section and give the man a new coat. Saves you forty-eight dollars.”
Maybe she had a point. Also, my storage unit was getting pretty full. I hoarded everything from prior Christmases for when I finally bought a house. I mean, how else would I decorate a five-bedroom, four-bath, two-story country home with a red barn on five snowy acres without having lots and lots of Santas? The way I saw it, I was investing in my future.
Still, maybe I could scale back just once. For Kay. For the cruise.
“Okay,” I said, “but I still have to wrap presents.”
“Dollar store.”
I gasped. “You know I only use gold- or red-foiled paper. The lights on the tree make the presents sparkle. Dollar store doesn’t carry that stuff.”
“Well, you’ll just have to make do since that’s where you’re doing your shopping this year for gifts.”
A wave of nausea climbed up my throat. Not that I had anything against shopping there, but I already had handmade crafts picked out for everyone. I loved supporting the artists, the crafters, and the wood carvers of the world. I made sure that everyone on my list got a totally unique—and, yes, sometimes expensive—item to add to their own decorations.
Last year, I ordered reindeer sculptures from Norway, inscribed with each person’s name. Set me back one hundred dollars per person. With forty people on my list—parents, my two older brothers, their wives, my six nieces and nephews, my five aunts and uncles, ten cousins, and my closest friends—well, you do the math. That didn’t include the cost of my party, decorations, or masterful cookie gifts. I also made little gift bags for about twenty people at work. Nothing fancy. Just a cute ornament for their trees plus a custom-printed card of me.