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Dear Santa–An Appeal

December 24, 2009

Dear Santa,

I know that today is Christmas Eve and you’re swamped with last minute details, but I’ve got a special request.  And I’m desperate, so I’ll cut to the chase…

Please Santa, take me off the Naughty List.

Yeah. That’s right. I’m on the Naughty List this year. Me. Super. Me. Naughty List. Shocking.

You must already know that I’m on the Naughty List.  After all, you are the one who actually makes the list AND checks it twice.  And this may be the only time in my life I’m on the same list as Tiger Woods and Chris Brown, but I’m wondering if there isn’t a little room for negotiation.

Hear me out.

A month ago I was invited to a black tie charity event.  I don’t go to black tie events often ever, so in preparation for the big night I made a quick and dirty trip to Nordstrom to purchase proper attire.

And that’s when I saw them. Black. Patent leather. Practically perfect in every way. Choos. And then there was the dress that Monkey said made me look like a Queen, and the earrings and the new clutch and the push-up bra and the spa day.

I won’t tell you how much I spent, but let’s just say it was significantly more than what I told my husband. I went a little crazy.

To myself I justified the purchases. I work hard–I run my own business, I have three kids. And I’m a good person–I volunteer, I recycle and I always give change to the Salvation Army bell ringers.  I deserve it.

Brent and I hadn’t specifically talked about budget for this event, but I knew.  And when he casually asked me how much I had spent on the whole thing, I instinctively…GULP…lied.

For a few weeks, I lived with the guilt, wearing my Choos in shame. And then God (or maybe it was you, Santa?) intervened and put the credit card statement in front of Brent. Busted.

But his reaction was unexpected.  Instead of angry, he was hurt.

Wha? Hurt?

Hurt that I felt the need to hide it from him.  I was confused. I was expecting a violent tongue lashing and a couple of days of the silent treatment. Instead, he said things like “I love you” and “You do work hard” and “Of course you deserve them” and “I want you to have them.”

I just cried and explained how I’m so used to hiding every little thing because in my old marriage I had to justify every expenditure from a Starbucks latte to a new toothbrush, or face the wrath of a man who didn’t/doesn’t think I’m deserving. Period.

And Brent just nodded, because he knows and he understands and he doesn’t judge me.  He just loves me.

Santa, that deception is what put me on the Naughty List.

And although I can’t justify my behavior (after all, I have a NEW marriage and a NEW husband now–a good one), perhaps you too can understand why I did what I did and find it in your heart to take me off the Naughty List.

Whaddya Say?

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