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transemacabreThis year I sent her a list of Etsys I love and begged her to buy me something from there; I figured she couldn't possibly go wrong. She must've painstackingly gone through those Etsys until she found the ugliest crap each one was selling and purchased that crap for me.
She sent me two necklaces on gold chain (I hate gold), one with fugly yellow stones, another with moderately less fugly blue stones. They look like costume jewelry. I don't like anything chunky and brightly colored and costumey. I like delicate, feminine, gothic jewelry. She cannot understand this despite me only buying and wearing delicate, feminine, gothic jewelry for myself.
I also got this weird crocheted thing. I spent 15 minutes, no kidding, try to figure out if it was supposed to be a skirt, or go on my head, or what. Finally I called her and she said it's a scarf. Wow, I would never have guessed that. What's worse is that I KNIT and for what she paid for this fugly thing, I could've knitted myself a scarf that was ten times as nice!
Half the Etsys I sent her were from Turkish artisans. I love Turkish and Islamic art. I would've loved loved loved a $10 pair of earrings strung with old Ottoman coins. I would've CRIED to get something like that. So my mother goes to a box store and buys an overpriced leather purse that was probably made in a sweatshop in Burma.
What kills me isn't the gifts exactly, its how they prove, in physical form, how out of touch my mother is with me. She doesn't understand the most basic qualities of what I like. I don't care about the money. I would've been happier if she'd sent me a nice card. Just something that shows she understands anything about me. The only things I can even see myself using out of the probably 500 dollars worth of stuff she sent me is the socks (!!!!) and the bedspread. I'm saving the nice wrapping paper to use for next year's Christmas, too.
The nicest thing I got this year was a Gogol Bordello ticket from my ex. My ex-boyfriend, who I dated for six months, could pick me out something I'd love, while my own mother is fumbling in the dark despite being given a road map and a flashlight. Next year I am just going to point her to individual Etsy items and say THIS IS WHAT I WANT. I DON'T WANT ANYTHING BUT THIS. NOT SOMETHING 'JUST LIKE IT' FROM WAL-MART. ONLY THIS. DON'T GET ME ANYTHING ELSE.
She sent me two necklaces on gold chain (I hate gold), one with fugly yellow stones, another with moderately less fugly blue stones. They look like costume jewelry. I don't like anything chunky and brightly colored and costumey. I like delicate, feminine, gothic jewelry. She cannot understand this despite me only buying and wearing delicate, feminine, gothic jewelry for myself.
I also got this weird crocheted thing. I spent 15 minutes, no kidding, try to figure out if it was supposed to be a skirt, or go on my head, or what. Finally I called her and she said it's a scarf. Wow, I would never have guessed that. What's worse is that I KNIT and for what she paid for this fugly thing, I could've knitted myself a scarf that was ten times as nice!
Half the Etsys I sent her were from Turkish artisans. I love Turkish and Islamic art. I would've loved loved loved a $10 pair of earrings strung with old Ottoman coins. I would've CRIED to get something like that. So my mother goes to a box store and buys an overpriced leather purse that was probably made in a sweatshop in Burma.
What kills me isn't the gifts exactly, its how they prove, in physical form, how out of touch my mother is with me. She doesn't understand the most basic qualities of what I like. I don't care about the money. I would've been happier if she'd sent me a nice card. Just something that shows she understands anything about me. The only things I can even see myself using out of the probably 500 dollars worth of stuff she sent me is the socks (!!!!) and the bedspread. I'm saving the nice wrapping paper to use for next year's Christmas, too.
The nicest thing I got this year was a Gogol Bordello ticket from my ex. My ex-boyfriend, who I dated for six months, could pick me out something I'd love, while my own mother is fumbling in the dark despite being given a road map and a flashlight. Next year I am just going to point her to individual Etsy items and say THIS IS WHAT I WANT. I DON'T WANT ANYTHING BUT THIS. NOT SOMETHING 'JUST LIKE IT' FROM WAL-MART. ONLY THIS. DON'T GET ME ANYTHING ELSE.
