#141 - Regifting is Selfish

Let’s be frank, getting a shitty gift that is only going to end up in the garage stuffed inside a plastic bin for the next 8 years is a burden you didn’t ask for. Yet, you’re forced to choke out a smile while pretending that a jigsaw puzzle of a flower garden somewhere in Germany has been the missing piece to completing your own life puzzle.

Unexpectedly, you are thrust into an acting role, forced to exemplify the positive attributes of an item for which you not only have zero interest, but resent for even being categorized as someone who would. You first comment on the colorful packaging, secretly hoping that grandma accidentally farts and deters the attention of the room so you can slide it aside in hopes that the distraction will direct the party onward to the next present in line.

You summon grandma’s bowels through the manifestation of positive thinking.

It works.

She is oblivious while everyone cringes, awkwardly ignoring the robust rip that just filled the delicate air. Except for Uncle Ernie who busts out in a gargled gut laugh and you think the gin blossoms on his nose are going to pop. “Weather reports say beware of breaking wind!”

The room eventually settles. There is a moment when you meet eyes with the benefactor of said gift as the person calculates your guise. You are uncertain of how to react, measuring their nuances for a tick, looking for a crack in their façade in the attempt of determining the level of excitement that is expected. You wonder how they could have possibly concluded that this gift was a personal fit for you but fuck it. For the sake of pleasantry, you play the role and tell them it’s perfect.

Your cousin Tara, who gets it, takes a hit from her vape pen and nods with a subtle smirk.

Funny how we never get regifted Cannabis products.