You wanna know something? I've always felt kind of like I was missing out on some sort of weird holiday thing because I never had an ugly sweater. I mean, the ugly Christmas sweater is a staple of sitcom episodes and bad holiday movies alike, not to mention some peoples' funny stories of bad Christmas gifts and amusing holiday gathering and several Harry Potter books.
So I did it. I had an Old Navy gift card lying around that I was never really gona use for anything, and it's Christmastime (well, at the mall it's been Christmastime since Halloween) so Old Navy is chock-full of sweaters of all kinds. I bought an ulgy sweater. I walked into the store, turned the corner, and there it was on a lower shelf, next to a much prettier sister-sweater (do you think there was any sibling rivalry there?). Fate. The very first sweater I saw was butt-ugly.
So I bought it. And I'm proud. It makes my friends' eyes burn, although my parents and relatives say it's "very nice" and seem to mean it, somehow. And you know what? I love my ugly sweater. It's ugly, but it's mine. It's ugly and I'm proud, to paraphrase that wise sage SpongeBob.
So feast your eyes, and then watch your eyeballs become bulimic as they vomit it right back up!
Sorry that the picture's sideways; my friend's phone said the regular-way file was too big to send. So I apologize for both the eye-vomit and neck-strain I'm probably putting you through. But I do love that dang crappy sweater.
Merry Christmas.
