Editor’s Note: Today’s guest post comes from one of my favourite bloggers - The Mercenary Researcher! I am a huge fan of her blog and am greatly honoured that she would come and leave her mark on mine. I hope you will all make her feel very welcome and then hop on over and check out her stuff. You won’t regret it!
My father means well, but he’s got a ‘bad gift choosing’ gene. It’s gotten worse over the years – especially after my parents split up and he had to get gifts on his own.
I dread birthdays and Christmas – I just know he’s going to get me another horrid coat. For years he would buy me hot pink coats; I looked like a deranged jelly bean. I hate pink. I don’t really wear coats.
Why he continues to get pink, I can’t fathom – it makes me wonder if he actually lived in the same house as me when I was growing up. From age 14 on, my clothing colors consisted of the following hue: BLACK.
Now as an adult, I’ve branched out a bit – it’s black and dark green. Every once in a while, when I meet someone new, I will ask them…so, if you were going to buy me a coat, what color would you choose? People that have only known me an HOUR answer “black”.
To my knowledge I’ve never owned anything pink.
The first few coats were easy to deal with, I worked as a vocational evaluator and a rehab facility, and I could donate my coat to some of the clients in the sheltered workshop area. Now I donate it to domestic violence shelters – at least it’s being put to good use.
My absolute ‘favorite’ thing my dad will do is buy me, my mom and his current wife the exact same present. It’s so much fun at Christmas when the three of us open up our gifts and we ALL get dearfoam slippers, a coat or a watch. Not even in different colors sometimes. AWKWARD
I think my mistake was saying I liked a particular gift – he latched on to that and ran with it. This year I got a black furry coat and a furry animal print beret. Sigh.
My husband always gets one of the following: a watch, boots or a flannel lined jacket. The first time my father bought him shoes for a present, he asked me what size he (my husband) wore. I told him the truth – he wears a 9 ½. My father refused to believe me; stating that ‘men’ don’t wear shoes that small. My husband is 6’ tall – and he has a size 9 ½ foot. So, of course, my father got him size 10 boots. Which, consequently, were too big. Imagine that.
Some other fabbo gifts he’s bestowed upon me are as follows:
- Furry cow spotted vest – I laughed and said what a funny joke and he looked abashed. Opps…
- A sandwich press (similar to a waffle iron) – which I brought back to Wal-Mart and learned it was from the $1 bin…nice….
- A clear plastic purse – I’m going to be 43 this month, and to date, I’ve never owned a purse. I’ve had backpacks and oversized book bags …all in black…but never a purse. NEVER. And as a side note – what’s with the clear purse? I’d feel compelled to stock it with lots of extra super absorbent tampons and Kotex pads– just to make people feel uneasy when they looked at it.
- Slippers – sometimes pink…one time pink & grey with a dingle type ball – they were clownish…I’m terrified of clowns.
- A watch. Another item of adornment that I’ve never sported in MY ENTIRE LIFE.
- Chunky heel slider sneakers. They were horrible. I hate most shoes – I wear black Doc Martin boots for the most part – but I think it’s weird to buy shoes for someone unless they specifically ask for shoes. Especially if you buy something you think is ‘stylish’ – and, as you’ve probably ascertained, he’s not really a stylish guy.
- One year, for my 33rd birthday, he (and his wife) bought me a schmata – in a size 2x.
My 80 year old grandmother wore them – who buys a young person a housecoat/duster?
So here’s the deal
- Never buy a 30 something woman a housecoat – just don’t. Even if they ask. Just don’t.
- If you’re not sure of a person’s size – err on the side of caution and go smaller…I was maybe an XL. It’s like buying a guy condoms in extra small.
Last year I sat my father’s wife down and told her that I don’t really need shoes nor was I a fan of pink items, in hopes that she’d pass it on gently to my father. I guess that’s why I got the furry black jacket this Christmas. My birthday is in a few days –oi! The gift. The possibilities are endless – or something from the list above.
I hope no one thinks I’m being mean – my dad’s a good guy – he’s just a horrible gift getter. You have to admit some of the things he’s gotten are kind of humorous in a funny uh- oh way.
Steph, thank you for letting me tell my story on your blog!
You are most welcome! Next time you come to visit I will be sure to crack out my best house coat.
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