The Season Of Giving - Less

I have noticed, as I am sure many have, the wonderous transformations that occur this time of year. To begin with, people are nicer. Suddenly, there's a bit of warmth when they mutter 'Happy Holidays' (as is only politically correct now), and more people smile, if only because they've been dumbed down by hearing Christmas music all day long no matter where they are.

On that point, Starbucks - must you play all the terrible versions of holiday music? How in the world does this boost your sales?

Besides that sidenote, it's colder. The coats are being pulled out, the sweaters all pushed to the front of the closet for easier access. All of a sudden I find myself eating more and worrying less over it. I mean, with so many layers of woolen scarves, who can possibly tell I've gained 10llbs in the past four weeks? Tis the joy of being single and undersexed.

Most of all is the undeniable fact drilled into us since a young age that this is the season of giving. We buy gifts for friends, family, family we don't acknowledge, co-workers, acquaintances who we don't care for, pets, and people like the postman whom we feel obligation towards during this season.

Why is it then that I've become the most self-serving person in the world while shopping now?

Take for example my expedition days ago to find the perfect gift for my newly engaged good friend whom we will refer to as Lori. Lori, though not the most outgoing one, is one of those few fortunate beings that artistic skill was bestowed upon, which needless to say, makes shopping for her near-impossible. I have no idea what she'd like, my tastes being so varied and really dreadful at times. So I'm in the third shop that morning when I see it, the perfect scarf. It's silk and maroon and-

For me.

I bought five more items for myself, and still have no idea what I'm going to get Lori.

This phenomenon frightens me. It's as if I go shopping for others, giving spirit in tow, and see only items for myself. No, I don't care if I've got a coffee maker, I need the newest one with the special family-size brewing capacity. And of course Lori would hate that cashmere sweater, she's so picky and it's just my size.

I would like to coin this the 'Selfish Santa Disorder'. Giving and genorisity are suddenly beyond my reach. I feel no guilt exchanging a $70 china set for a $30 sweater for Lori just so I can buy all of the Oasis albums I've been meaning to. I feel almost, and this is sad, generous for not reaching for the $14.99 copy of the new Franz Ferdinand album for her.

This, my friends, is a sickness that I doubt there is any cure. While I have come to terms with it, I will enjoy the rest of my holiday spirit in searching for some new boots for myself. I hope you have nearly as much fun.