An open letter to Glitter: America’s holiday crisis. Glitter, you are everywhere this season, with your delightful, yet worthless, presence.
I first noticed you on my secretary’s face. Perplexing, yet cute, your true nature was still to be revealed. In 2004, you were all the rage or maybe you were already past your prime, I know not, but somehow you seemed not to care.
In 2005, the college girls upstairs threw a massive New Year’s Eve bash. You were invited, but you left a mess. I know you wore green and red because you were all over the sidewalk, steps and breezeway. Plutonium has nothing on you, Glitter. Ten years later, I still find you in my carpet. The tenacity of your half-life is truly astounding, but without all the nasty side effects. I guess I can chalk that up to your sparkling personality.
In 2015, my silver wrapping paper got all the compliments. But when it was torn in half you showered the floor, my shoes and pants with your sprinkling stars. No sooner than I arrived home, 175 miles away, you were on my cat. What, why, how, no matter, Glitter, you travel with the speed of light.
Glitter, do I take your suggestion and make mine a full-blown Sparkle Cat? You are such a nostalgic fool, you think Myspace rules the world. OMG, Glitter, you are such a biatch!
In the holiday season, Glitter, you are the one guest who can be counted on to arrive with a smile, but always overstay your welcome. Glitter, you are America’s insidious holiday crisis, worthless, yet not entirely unlovable, I can count on you being at my side for years to come, you little star of my vacuum bag.