Feminist Underwear

How I Wrap Presents (Happy Holidays)

• Begin by scouring my house for all available boxes. The only boxes will either be a)enormous North Face monster-sized coffins that once contained all the winter coats in the world or b)so tiny they are not visible to the naked eye and must have held nothing but a single snowflake
• Lock myself in my room with my presents and boxes scattered around the unmade bed, so that I will inevitably forget the ring I got my mom once I have already wrapped all her shit.
• Stuff as many items in one box as is humanly possible. Only stop when I am forced to sit on the box to close it, like it is a suitcase.
• Realize I have forgotten scissors. Hide everything under the bed once again, shut the bedroom door just in case, then retreat to the kitchen.
•  Decide I deserve seven or eight holiday cookies as a treat for my troubles.
• Find scissors and tape. Return to bedroom like a secret agent who has crumbs all over her and nearly stabs herself with the scissors several times.
• Take the boxes that have already been stuffed and open them to put tissue paper inside them. This can be done in a variety of ways but generally involves crumpling it like I am a wild animal who has hooves instead of hands.
• “Measure” the wrapping paper. This means I cut off an enormous sheet that could probably wrap en entire house, probably slicing my fingers off in the process. 
• Rip the wrapping paper into smaller, more manageable pieces. Scissors may or may not have been thrown across the room and declared evil by this point, so the end result looks like something I fished out of the trash.
• Fold up the boxes inside the wrapping paper. Under no circumstances will I have enough room to cover the entire box so there is an attractive brown stripe in the center of every gift.
• Tuck the ends of the wrapping paper underneath the box (do not try any fancy origami folding methods) and stick a year’s supply of tape between the two strips. 
• Realize I’ve forgotten labels. End up writing “TO DAD LOVE CHELSEA” directly on the wrapping paper in old orange highlighter from my room.
• Cuddle up in the ruins of my bed, which will be filled with crumpled tissue and glossy wrapping paper and bits of tape and probably blood for the next three months or so.
• Celebrate my achievements with another six cookies and probably a glass of wine.