Christmas on Becca's Books | All I Want for Christmas by Rosa Temple

~ All I Want for Christmas ~

By Rosa Temple

Throughout the year I love to spoil and pamper my inner goddess. My birthday and the Christmas season are two perfectly good reasons to bring out the glitz and glamour and reveal the goddess in me in all her true glory. I'm talking gorgeous frocks, false lashes, trips to the beauty salon, and don't forget the killer heels. Along with the killer heels I add the obligatory gel insoles, because no goddess wants to hobble out of a party because her feet hurt. Am I right?

My work doesn't require me to dress up and look fab. I'm writing during the day, sat at my laptop in an over stretched t-shirt and baggy track suit bottoms; I'm not wearing lipstick, I haven't addressed the little matter of my roots and the best before date of my face mask clay says 2007. But that's okay, even though my work attire is a little creased, it doesn't mean that my goddess is creased in any way. I still feel every bit the goddess when I answer the door to the postman and I've got toast crumbs in my hair.

But it wasn't until last Christmas that I realised, my inner goddess probably only showed outwardly when I'd made the necessary, superficial adjustments. It was no good me thinking that everyone thought I was some kind of femme fatale just because that's what my mind told me I was. And a Christmas present from last year brought that home – with a bang.

My mother-in-law never usually buys Christmas presents for the adults in the family; only the children. But last year she broke with tradition and we all got a little gift from her.

Now I love presents. In fact I love anything that's free. But, imagine my shock and horror when I opened the present only to find a pair of knitted gloves and a cushion you heat up in the microwave to warm up your hands. Was that it? I thought to myself, shaking the packaging out to make sure some sparkly earrings weren't stuck inside or something. Sadly, no, there was nothing else. Just two items for making my hands warm.

Was that how she saw me? A non-goddess-like daughter-in-law with cold hands? Of course, I didn't show my disappointment at not having gotten the kind of perfume a femme fatale would wear or some gift vouchers for a shop where goddesses go to buy their glamorous goods. No, I just smiled and thanked her. I would have hugged her too but I worried that my hands might be too cold.

That present got me thinking: When I answered the door to the postman, was I just a woman in an old t-shirt with toast in her hair?  The postman might have answered, yes; my mother-in-law, too. But I still tap away at my laptop, dishevelled and happy. I'm a goddess no matter what I wear – including the knitted gloves I pimped with tiny crystals.

Merry Christmas to goddesses everywhere!

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