I see myself entering my aunt's home. My prodigious Irish Catholic family has already begun drinking. They are everywhere, permeating the rooms, cracking jokes, arguing, cooking, eating, chatting, playing games.
Heads turn toward me, hugs are had, comments are made about my body (either about my breasts or my weight or my hair--take your pick). I smile graciously and try not to start spouting off feminist theory regarding body image. My grandmother, wine glass in hand, saunters over, takes a sip of her port and smiles.
Honey, where is Kenny at? Is he coming later? Is it true that you two have broken up?
I swallow my grandmother in one bite. I eat her whole. I am The Big Bad Wolf and I am ravenous.
Next, my wealthy aunt approaches with her perky tennis bum, a colorful silk scarf wrapped around her neck, and tanned skin (just returned from another vacation, evidently).
Darling, will we be seeing Kenny today? I've been meaning to ask him about--
Another relative down the throat.
From room to room I move, I eat, I smile graciously.
Soon none but my youngest cousin and I remain. Innocently, she draws near...
Jen, where is everyone? Have you seen K--
Mmmm...the holidays as a single girl. I. can. not. wait.