This afternoon I got an email from my Ob-Gyn’s office inviting me to go there for pictures with Santa. Naturally I was horrified by this and cannot imagine what perverted mind came up with such a disgusting and inappropriate idea. I don’t care how festive they make it, a picture of Santa posing with my grotto is not going on the mantelpiece.
Fortunately for them I scrolled down the email and discovered that this was actually an invitation to have my offspring photographed with Santa (though hopefully just their faces) and not a festive gynaecology shot. It’s hard enough going through the hideous annual exam, I certainly don’t need Santa chiming in on whether I’ve been naughty or nice this year. Frankly I find the whole thing discriminatory against non-sprog-producers like myself and wonder if perhaps I should just turn up alone and ask them where I should get changed for my photos. ‘Hey Santa, I’m ready for my close-up’.
But this leads to a lot of questions, not least of which is what would I wear? Surely not just one of those awful flannel smocks? Will they bring in special christmassy gowns or can I come in something of my own choosing? Who knows, the email didn’t cover this.
And how will the shots be set up by the photographer? Will they provide holiday accessories like with a photo booth? If there’s time it might be nice to create a little snowy village scene down there. At least some tinsel and perhaps a few sprigs of holly. No, forget the holly, that’s a terrible idea. And I’m anxious to know what will Santa be doing. Will this be a full-on posed, one of my legs casually tossed over his shoulder shot or more of a Santa with a speculum photobomb? Should he just sit facing forward with my legs hooked through his arms and into the stirrups in a sleigh like fashion? Or am I overthinking all of this?
And what do you then do with the photo? I’m not a big fan of those online make your own card places where you can upload a pic of your adorable family and have it mailed direct to all and sundry. I don’t really object to the inherent laziness it’s more the annoyance of receiving multiple ‘cards’ that are really postcards given that there’s no way to actually stand them up. Yes I know I’m probably missing some clever Pinterest suggestion for hanging them from little clothes pegs in a way that looks so adorable in the pictures but is impossible to replicate in your own home. It’s one of the benefits of being child-free.
I think if I did this I’d have to caption the photo to add a bit of light relief. You could have Santa pointing a finger at the appropriate spot with a word bubble saying “here’s something that needs a good stuffing”. Or pop a little model of Sydney Opera House between your thighs with the line “Santa’s going Down Under!” Too contrived?
I just don’t know if I can do it. I don’t believe in Father Christmas so I’d be lying there wondering who the hell is this man who gets off on taking pics of holiday fannies. What if it’s just one of the doctors who fancies the idea of dressing up in a Santa outfit and yelling Ho Ho Ho at his patients? I am only grateful that I procastinated over making my annual appointment and won’t be subject to this sick idea.
But now I fear going to sleep in case I dream about elves giving me a pap smear.
In other news, it’s National Adoption Awareness Month. This is where we celebrate all the great things about adopting and remind ourselves that even though the shelters are full and bursting at the seams, a new baby is not just for Christmas. Or maybe I got that mixed up somewhere.
Non-adoptees will probably ask what makes adoption so special and why they need a whole month for it when a half day would surely suffice. At which point adoptees will nod in agreement, hang their heads in shame and never speak of it again.
I don’t know if I’m noticing it more this year or if there really has been a lot more written about adoption, both pro and against.#FliptheScript and #NationalAdoptionMonth has been getting some great coverage and the universe has been hitting me with almost daily jolts in conversations, TV progs, articles and Facebook posts.
Lucky for me I’ll be covering the whole messy business in my new FronteraFest show ‘A Superior Type of Girl’ which plays on Thursday January 29. After 48, almost 49 long tiresome years of being adopted, I have finally hit the zeitgeist. It feels like I’m coming out (but not in a vaginal delivery kind of way).
Hail to the V. Whether holiday festooned or plain.