Okay, I'm just going to come right out and say it: A lot of women secretly hate Christmas.
Now, don't get me wrong. We love that picturesque moment in which the tree is lit, the fire is crackling, and children outfitted in matching candy-cane pajamas dance around the living room to Tchaikovsky, showing off armfuls of new toys while a twenty-pound ham bakes in the oven; we just hate the anxiety disorder we developed while trying to produce it.
There seems to be some kind of universal agreement that the advances achieved through women's liberation need not apply during the holidays. It's as though the first trumpet peals of "It's the Most Wonderful Time of the Year" sent blasting over the PA at Bath & Beyond are designed to trigger an internal short that shocks us all into Stepford mode, donning aprons and strained smiles and sweaters that have no business surviving another decade.
From A Year of Biblical Womanhood by Rachel Held Evans
What stresses you the most about Christmas?
