The first year after (now) dh and I moved in together he brought in three presents of increasing size on Christmas morning.
The smallest was great, a soap and glory mini set of eyeliners and lipglosses. I love my eyeliners, so that was a good start.
Then I opens the medium sized present. It was a pink, (I’m not a pink person) square, soap and glory wash-bag full of body lotions and soaps. I have never seen toiletries as a gift and didn’t use lotions then, but hey, there was still the big gift to go!
I’m quite easy to buy for really, as long as you know that I like practical things. Anything crafty, arty, or DIY-y, of any kind and I am happy. But I’m pretty happy with lots of other things too. In fact I can really only think of one thing that I would feel disappointed to receive.
He hands me the big present looking enormously pleased with himself and I open it. I was raised to be grateful regardless of what it is, so I choked back my enormous disappointment and thanked him graciously.
It was an identical - albeit much bigger - square, pink, wash bag, with identical - albeit much bigger - load of lotions and soaps.
He happily said that he knew I liked soap and glory and so had made sure he got me things I would like.
I nodded and kept a fixed smile on before giving him his gift of a mandolin, that I had spent ages researching and that he absolutely loved because musical instruments are his thing.
That was almost ten years ago, and it’s only now, due to the constant hand washing over the past few months, that I am actually beginning to work my way through the mountain of lotions and soaps he bought me.
We did have a conversation later about how I preferred to buy my own toiletries. He has since bought thoughtful and brilliant presents mostly. He has definitely never bought me anything remotely soap and glory-ish again.
It’s not the worst present in the world, but it was so crushingly not-me.