Myrtle Claus
'So what are you doing for Christmas? Are you going away or are you staying home this year?'
It's early December and I'm hanging out at my neighbor's kitchen table. We haven't seen each other for a while because of the cold. So it's high time to catch up over a cup of coffee. About her grandchildren and the naughty pranks they play. About the school performance of my offspring. About the things we've done lately. And about the weather that ensures that we are outside much less than in the summer months.
Of course, the conversation will come naturally on the upcoming holidays. I tell her we're not traveling north or south this year to celebrate Christmas with family. We stay at home and look forward to a day of doing nothing and watching movies.
'Come and have dinner with us on Christmas Eve! The kids come too and we celebrate downstairs in the basement. Room enough for everyone!'
An invitation I gladly accept. The parties at the neighbors are always relaxed and fun. I couldn't wish for a better start to Christmas at home. That's a nice prospect!
Help, what should I wear?
While she continues talking about the extensive menu she plans to make, a thought suddenly flashes through my head. What the hell am I wearing on Christmas Eve? My plan was to just slide into my easy dress at our own table. No stress this year because I have to look for something festive at the last minute. But that easy dress is a little too easy for a Christmas evening at the neighbors. That means I'll have to go on a clothing hunt anyway.
Shop Frustrations
And therein lies the pinch. Years of experience have taught me that this is anything but relaxing. Since I live in Italy, can I rightly call shopping a crime. The shops are full of nice things, that even a not so shopper like me will salivate. It really isn't the offer. It is my fault. I can't count the times when I walked to the changing room with a whole load of clothes in which I could already see myself walking around. Just as little as the times I hung the same load back on the racks disappointed.
Italian clothing is tailored to the Italian woman. Who has a different physique than the average Dutch lady. Thinner legs, more slender, shorter. No Dutch curves or such a clear BBB zone that I have compared to them. Shopping is therefore equivalent to fitting room dramas. Disastrous for my ego. And disastrous for the right Christmas mood. As I think about it, I kind of regret accepting my dear neighbor's offer.
An early Christmas present
She suddenly interrupts her story about all the dishes she wants to put on the table. And as if she can read my mind, she says: 'By the way, down in the cellar last year it was quite chilly especially at the beginning of the evening, despite the fireplace that was burning. So no fancy Christmas clothes, don't forget to put on something warm.'
Could you wish for a more beautiful present than those words? Not me! We are looking forward to a very pleasant and above all relaxed Christmas period. I'm already in the right Christmas mood.
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