My favorite gift wasn’t the dress shirt or slacks so I can look spiffy in clinics; it wasn’t What’s The Matter With Kansas, or the sour watermelon gummies, or even the underwear. Not the sweaters or calendar of Paris, either.
My favorite gift this holiday was the knowledge that I’m not going bald, as I had been previously thinking for the past couple months, and frantically ranting to my classmate Yana about. No, no, dear readers. I get to keep this lucious mane of hair. My mom has the same hairline forehead V that I have.
Yes, Virginia, there is a Santa Claus.