Heaux heaux heaux

It's that time of the year again! I find that every year during Christmas time, I become such a Scrooge McDuck. I lose all excitement for the Christmas trees, decorations and Christmas jingles. I think a lot of it has to do with my childhood memories of Christmas. Now, you'll probably think I had a shit childhood because my family never celebrated Christmas. Exact opposite. My childhood Christmas memories consisted of my cousins sleeping over, staying up till midnight so we could tear open our presents, then heading to my Godma's swanky apartment in Bangsar and (through my 5 year old's eyes), an equally swanky Christmas cocktail party. (Not to mention opening her Christmas presents, she always spoiled me silly. Still does).

And on the occasions where my parents and I would fly to the Philippines to spend the holidays with my mum's side of the family, the celebrations were spectacular. Christmas meant the whole family in my uncle and auntie's townhouse, which only means one thing when you put this many Filipinos under one roof = HAVOC. It's loud and noisy. Just the way I like it.

But I guess I just grew up. I became too busy with school and assignments to have time to write a Christmas list (One time I wrote a puppy and a baby sister. I DID get a puppy. Baby sister, pending) 

But this year, I will (try to) not be Scrooge! I'm gonna be excited again. I've already been listening to Michael Buble's Christmas album to get me in the mood. I even resorted to a photo opp with a Santa hat.

No coal for me please

To get me even more in the Christmas spirit, I took a cue from my childhood self: Getting presents
Presents were the icing on the cake about Christmas. (Or maybe even the whole damn cake). So I already received my first Christmas present!

Hello, kitty

Confession: My first Christmas present is from myself. And I already opened it. And wearing it.