It's Christmas today. 

Everything is bright and beautiful, full of red and greens everywhere you move. Santa Clauses wave to you as you walk past the street. The white snow falling on your nose and lashes and skin as it comes down to blanket the town, delighting little children who pack the soft snow between their hands and hurl it at each other as they collapse down in a fit of giggles. The whole town looks festive, and everyone is too, well, almost everyone. 

The party, the Christmas party has been haunting your thoughts for days, if not weeks. Your brain has been furiously searching for new excuses for the same occasion. Bambi eyes don't seem to work on mother anymore, and nor does sniffling. It's T-2 hours to doomsday. Sweat rolls of your forehead too fast for you to constantly mop it off. "Dress up quick! Or at least choose your dress! You're not getting out of it this time" yells your mother. Oh oh. Operation doomsday is going to phase 2 – the outfit. You sluggishly move to the closet and look at it in distaste. At the moment, everything in your closet looks dingy, even the closet itself! On a usual day, much thought isn't needed and your appearance is never a problem. But, today was different. Your lucky purple shirt isn't good enough, nor are your comfy pants. They just don't fit in. "Honey! Are you done yet? I'm coming up to see what you're going to wear."

Now you were in serious trouble. You quickly pull out the closest clothes to you and throw them onto the bed. Mother appears a minute later and goes into conniptions at your clothes. Then she digs deep into your closet into the forbidden section. Please, no please. She reappears with clothes you have stuffed away never to be seen again. She selects a pair of stylish pants and a matching top and stuffs them into your hands. You open your mouth to argue but are immediately cut off. You are forced to stuff yourself into the clothes as you give your hair a quick brush before you put your plan into action. You clutch your stomach and let out a groan, but before you can continue you are dragged out of there by your mother who isn't going to fall for it a third time. You kick and fuss and pout and make your final stand bravely. Heart beats start to go faster and faster as you approach the town square. You seem to start to squirm way too much and try dragging mother in the opposite direction. She grits her teeth and determinedly goes in the opposite direction and pushes you into the crowd. Trying to keep from stumbling you keep your head down as you navigate through the crowd to find a quiet spot. The music is way too loud and your ears are starting to ring. The other kids in the crowd are dressed up like little teen models and your clothes just stand out amongst the others. Heads turn your way and you turn a beetroot red and mutter an apology before quickly turning to the food section. You lose yourself in the crowd and finally find a quiet spot where you sit and close your eyes trying to block out the sounds. However, the more you try the louder it seems to get. 

Letting out a frustrated groan you check your watch. Ughhh. Only a half hour has passed. You stubbornly decide to stick to your mother and annoy her as that's the only option left. You are about to go search he for her when you accidentally run into an old acquaintance of yours, her eyes wider in surprise and she looks down at you. This makes you shrink further into yourself and you try to make it less awkward by waving a friendly hello. Oh no. You then realise that no one says hello anymore. Cringing inwards you know you can't correct it so you do nothing. She gives you a weird look and walks away. Now you want to shrink into nothingness, if it were possible. Heat rushes through you and you replay the scene into your head and find that a hundred different responses come flooding through. Stupid brain. Always has a late reaction. Looking up, you find your mother moving through the crowd with such ease interacting with everyone around her. You envy the comfort she feels here and run up to her and ask her if you can go home. Remember. There shouldn't be any trace of what happened on your face. You always know what'll happen if you try explaining it. Always the same talk. Despite the fact that nothing seems to get in your head, you always now your head vigorously and look repentant. And it always seems to work. You grab the keys and run back home. The moment you're inside you go up to your room and pull of your clothes and pull the loosest and baggies clothes and throw them on. Finally, you seem to be able to breathe. You tie your hair up messily and pull a book out. 

Your last thoughts before you lose yourself into the magical world the book creates are 'Peace at last. Operation doomsday successfully executed. I repeat, mission accomplished. '