By: Jessica B.
I love the holidays, but I’ve been known to misbehave on them. I’ve mentioned before that I don’t like to share, but another one of my bad traits is that I’m a jealous person. I don’t like it when things that are mine are taken away or when competition comes in.
So I can painfully admit that most of my bad Christmas behavior stems from jealousy and my misguided ways to act out on it. I’m not someone who will bad mouth you to your face, I’m more the passive aggressive type, who will hide your car keys or do a backhanded compliment. I hate to say that I’ve even hissed at someone I don’t like when they got too close to me. Apparently I was channeling a cat that night.
I thought I would share with you one bad Christmas behavior story that stands out, and that a few friends bring up on occasion.
Every Christmas Day evening, we host my stepmom’s family at my parent’s house. And every year that we’ve hosted, I end up horribly drunk and passed out in the basement or in my room because I overserve myself. Being a stepchild, I often feel like I don’t fit in with my dad and stepmom, especially with her family. I’m sort of caught in the middle.
These feelings of insecurity, coupled with jealousy of her family and my stepbrother’s girlfriend, who my stepmom and her family
love, leads me to lash out, usually with champagne.
Two years ago, dressed in a very nicely coordinated outfit, I drank two bottles of champagne (before dinner) and stumbled out into the living room with the guests, practically laying on the couch over my nemesis, the girlfriend. I tried to be polite to her, while poking at her face, thinking that was cute.
When my dad excused me and pulled me off the couch, to “calm down,” I ended up finishing off another partial bottle of wine and getting a case of the munchies. That fateful munchie craving lead me to eat, with my bare hands, raw tenderloin, which was going to be cooked for the guests. And that is what dad caught me doing when he came to check on the me and the meat. He caught me eating the raw meat bare handed like an animal.
I can still hear him saying, “Jess! What the hell are you doing?”
And me saying back, “Eating…and now bedtime!”
And then I stumbled upstairs, popped out my contacts and passed out on my bed in my clothes…again.
Fingers crossed I can keep it two years in a row of actually behaving. Oh and I also cannot serve myself liquor at home anymore. Apparently my parents picked up on the pattern of how I got so easily intoxicated.
Reader notes: Thank you everyone for the great comments on yesterday’s “moving on” post. I’m glad several of you brought up the media perpetuating the Brad/Jen/Angie “triangle” too because I did forget to add a note like that in the post. I’m definitely Team Aniston, but I think it’s time we just let the whole issue drop.
Also, in response to Sunday’s post, CWI are “cold weather indicators,” basically nipping out, which I was doing at the gym when I waved at Jamie Foxx, who was playing basketball. HOT! And for the make out story, I didn’t end up making out with anyone after the holiday party, because when Is said I wanted to make out, the only people around me were female co-workers. And that is not who I was hoping to make out with. Maybe next time I’ll say that in a sea of hot men :)
