Being Santa

Year after year I wrote letters to Santa and year after year I failed to understand why his gifts always got stuck in the chimney or got lost in the mail. I assure you that all my letters were clearly written and all my demands we specified with utmost precision. I left him no room for mistakes and I gave him ample time to work on my gifts. One year I asked him to give me a mesmerizing voice – yes I literally wanted to sing! The year after I asked for a figure that defied time, yet everything seems to be heading south. Last year I finally summoned my courage and dared ask for a man, and I safely assumed that Santa did not do a great job.
I wracked my brains trying to figure out Santa’s problem with delivering my gifts; he has a fun job and a whole year to work on his deadlines. What’s so hard about dashing through the snow on a sleigh pulled by reindeers? Why can’t he jingle his bells, and get his elves running up and down the globe to get me my long-awaited presents? I even begged him in my last letter to skip the chimney part and just leave the guy on my terrace or, even better, on my doorstep. I gave him a detailed list of “hot or not” to help him with the screening process and I handed him, in descending order, an attachment with the star signs, western and Chinese, that are zodiacally compatible with me. Still, there were no gifts under my Christmas tree!

I decided to become Santa; with my meticulousness, wide range of expertise, and access to my friends’ wish lists, I was certain I would do a great job. KN is a genius who went to school with me. He left Egypt many years ago in pursuit of knowledge and academic excellence. What he lacked in looks and physical appeal, he made up for with an intimidating IQ, a kind heart, wits, and a pleasant disposition. Piece of cake! I thought to my ignorant self. KN clearly told me that he did not care much for beauty, but a good family, independence, and strength – as opposed to being a softie – are majors. He assured me that he was a very down to earth person and that his wardrobe was quite modest; hence, his request of a girl who did not have high benchmarks in the looks and class departments.

Like a computerized match-making machine, I scrolled through the profiles of my female friends, and in five minutes I presented him his ideal match. I asked him to check her profile on my facebook friends and I sent him a link to her blog to show him how deep and intellectual she was. In the meanwhile I relished in a sweet sense of victory over Santa … ha!!

KN: She is one year older; my parents would kill me.
Me: Your parents just want to see you happy …. A year is not a big deal
(I typed thinking of my toy boy nightmares)
KN: She looks so Egyptian.
Me: So?
KN: I have two comments … I just do not want to offend you.
(I was beginning to resent Santa’s job!)
Me: You said looks do not matter!
KN: OK … who wears a black bra under a white top?
Me: Come on … I did not even notice the bra!
KN: It’s just so dark … the girl has no fashion sense!
(I was beginning to curse!)
Me: But you said you are not that much into fashion!
KN: But that’s really basic! I guess I could spare you the second comment.
Me: No … No! Please go ahead
(I tried to think of Santa’s smile and kind face)
KN: There is no polite way to say this …. The girl has gigantic boobs!
(I was stupefied!)
Me: This is not a drawback I suppose!
KN: I mean WOW!
Me: COW?

My friend laughed and my first Santa assignment failed with flying colors and gold ribbons! How could people be so ungrateful, uncompromising, and unaccommodating? How could they say they wanted something when they did not? How do they ever expect to be satisfied? How did I never notice Santa’s gifts? Santa gave me a voice when I first started writing … why was I so adamant on singing? Santa gave me a genuine smile that defied the rules of gravity … why was I so fixated on flab? Santa sent me one man after the other; on my doorstep, in my office, in my classroom, on blogs, in seminars, and I cannot remember where else, but by some miracle of genius I have flawlessly managed to spot the black bra under the white top!

Merry Christmas Santa … I owe you an apology!