You sit on a throne of lies

A few years ago, my mom emailed these pictures of me sitting on Santa’s lap.

Apparently the enormous chair with pom-pom fringe was a big part of the 1970’s era Santa.

Also, nice all-denim ensemble I’m wearing, complete with rollers in my hair. Something tells me this was an unplanned Santa visit.

However, this next trip was clearly orchestrated because why else would I be wearing my festive harvest gold tights with my harvest gold turtleneck and denim jumper?

This next Santa was a long way from the fancy throne at the mall. I have vague memories of walking into a double-wide trailer parked outside the Bealls store.

I think the imitation wood paneling really says it all.

And speaking of imitation, it’s a sad day when Santa can’t even afford a real fireplace.

Dang. That is one ghetto Santa set up.

I asked my mom to send a few more pictures last night because I was feeling a little nostalgic. A few hours later, she emailed several to me. She couldn’t remember how to work her scanner so she had my stepdad take pictures of the pictures with his digital camera.

You can hardly tell.

Oh look. This was a big Christmas for me. It was the year Santa brought me my very own curling brush.

It was the beginning of my quest for big hair.

And here I am in 1988.

It would appear that I finally mastered the technique for maximum hair volume.

I also cannot express how much I loved that outfit. It had a green jacket that went on top of that purple shirt and I believe I even had some purple flats to bring it all together.

Merry Christmas indeed.

Anyway, none of this really has any point other than to force you to take a walk down memory lane with me.

And to serve as a procrastination device before I force myself into the kitchen to bake untold amounts of holiday goods.

And to help me forget that this is in my backyard right now.

I’m afraid the reindeer won’t land for fear they’re being hunted.