I came downstairs one Christmas to the Christmas tree, a few hours early, expectant, excited. Slowly, my family trickled in, and we all sat around, opening presents. My sister’s boyfriend Brian was there, and he had a few, too. He opened one of them, from my sister, and there was this lovely floral belt, army green, that looked like it had come from a pair of cargo shorts from Old Navy. At least, I know that’s what it looked like, because it had, and it was mine.
I would like to say that I was mature, and recognized that my sister may not have planned adequately for Christmas, and that she needed something special for her boyfriend. But I was 15. I stood up and demanded my belt back.
I would also like to say I’ve matured and I eventually moved on to other belts. But I haven’t. I’ve been using the same belt daily for the past dozen years. I’m wearing it right now. It’s the only belt I’ve ever really used repeatedly.
Don’t try to steal my belt.