I’m fairly certain that regifting originated from the need to dispose of a fruitcake. From there it branched out and became an ideal solution for eliminating all kinds of unwanted presents. Subsequently, entire industries have suffered.
As each new recipient acquired a regifted item, he or she then was able to eliminate one cheap and thoughtless purchase from a holiday shopping list. Think of it as multi-level sales in reverse. Manufacturers were forced to produce fewer goods, which in turn led to the nation’s decline in GNP (Gross Needless Products). In fact, rumor has it that only one smoked sausage log has been made in the United States since 1978. Thus, regifting has become the bane of our economy.
If we’d all stop repetitively selecting the same purchases every year, then maybe we could put an end to this cycle of defeat. Just because every sales brochure we receive is hawking bathrobes at 50 percent off doesn’t mean that anyone really needs one. Why do you think they’re half-price and labeled “one size fits all”?
A terrycloth robe will be circulated through an entire extended family before someone donates it to the nearest homeless shelter. The same can be said for scarf and glove sets. Few Texas residents need a set of fleece-lined mitts. If you want to protect your loved ones here from harsh weather conditions, consider sending them lip balm and sunscreen.
This brings me to another ill-suited gift choice: throw blankets. I don’t care if they are camo-print or have been made from those new super-soft petroleum-based fabrics. Grandpa doesn’t sneak up on deer when he’s sitting in his recliner. And polar fleece might very well be the single greatest factor contributing to global oil shortages. Besides, nothing says “You look like a person who has no social life” better than a blanket. This, too, is sure to be passed along until it’s eventually claimed for dog bedding.
Speaking of possessions that guys don’t actually use, here’s another senseless acquisition—the auto emergency flashlight equipped with a ball peen hammer. Ladies, if the car breaks down, do you really want your man out there standing on the side of the road, fumbling in the dark, and trying to fix a vehicle with a demolition tool? And even if you are sadistic enough to answer yes to that question, that’s not how these situations typically unfold. Most men would turn on the overhead dome light, flip open their cell phone, and dial AAA.
Women aren’t the only ones who have difficulty making purchases for the opposite sex. Here’s a tip for men who are shopping for their spouses: Ladies are not infatuated with sharp objects the way you are. Don’t bother buying a knife set for your wife unless you mean to encourage sinister thoughts.
Furthermore, the cutlery industry has yet to recover from a butcher block steak knife set that someone purchased in 1982. This testosterone-laden object has since appeared at every bridal shower in the South. (Last seen, it was being offered on eBay by a seller whose name rhymes with “hobbit.”)
Finally, let me offer a few words about loofah sponges: STOP GIVING THEM TO ME!
I’m sorry. I just had to get that out.
Similar to other females, I love smelling like freesia, though I’m not sure what that is. But I don’t need a nylon scouring pad to apply my scented lotions and bath gels. These objects are fillers sold to the average consumer who believes there’s a need for all this colorful netting. Apparently, this includes most anyone who’s ever walked past the entrance of a Bath & Body Works.
While I can’t get enough vanilla scented creams and soaps, I’ve had to dedicate an entire linen closet to the storage of unused loofah sponges. The problem here is that, despite regifting, I can’t stay ahead of the influx of new arrivals.
Ultimately, regifting must be reduced to restore the financial health of our economy. The country’s GNP depends upon all of us doing our part to make better informed purchases this season.
As to what to do with your unwanted bath aids, I can only suggest upgrading your home to one that includes more storage space. Nobody needs a loofah sponge. And our slumping real estate market could use the assistance.
Excerpted from Deedee Divine’s Totally Skewed Guide to Life, by Diana Estill. Available now from Amazon.com.