Exactly. Some people use hand cream - I do, I keep any that I get given in a drawer and use it up over time.
Lots of people like Bayliss and Harding or Soap and Glory (I actually have quite liked the soap and glory stuff I’ve had).
I don’t buy into the ’because I don’t deem them acceptable for my tastes and preferences, nobody else could ever make use of them, therefore I’m entitled to just bin them and anyone who doesn’t agree with this practice is a hypocrite or ground level empath - whatever the fuck one of those is.’
My Christmas thing I wouldn’t say out loud is that I’d never leave my elderly relative on their own at Christmas but hosting them is a fucking ballache, and that my normally lovely husband who does easily his fair share the rest of the year tends to resort to a sulky teenage boy at Christmas who expects everything to be made magical for him whilst doing next to nothing himself, and when this is pointed out (somewhat angrily) tends to come down with a mystery illness as an excuse to be even more useless than he was already being. My in laws are somewhat the same, ‘oh I don’t know how you bother’ ‘oh we don’t bother anymore’ ‘oh it’s too much I wouldn’t be bothered’ - well I bother because I enjoy it and my daughter enjoys it, and you don’t seem to mind when you rock up and spend the day enjoying all the results of how much I’ve bothered - and the fact we have to have you every year means we can’t go to my own family where I might actually get a break from bothering! And we have to have the long, sad conversation about how sad it is that DH’s gran, who was indeed lovely, is no longer with us since she died 5 years ago at the age of 92, and FIL performs his great grief like he’s the only person who ever lost a parent (well into his 70s) and I, who was an orphan by 11, and lost my adoptive parents when I was 15 and 32, and my beloved adoptive mum died in the most traumatic way, far too young, in front of me AT CHRISTMAS but we can never mention that or bring it up because that would be bringing everyone down. And still I am somehow expected to be the one brining the magic. And I do it for my daughter but I hate that I might be instilling in her the expectation that she’ll have to be the one doing it for everyone else one day.
That was more miserable than I intended when I started typing. It’s such a bloody cliche too and I’m annoyed with myself for falling into it - I promise my husband really is great the rest of the time (he’s just brought me a tea and told me to have a lie in as I look tired, whilst he wrangles DD downstairs, despite the fact that this is his first day off in ages and he’s been doing long hours). Something about Christmas just makes him a bit twat-like and I wish it didn’t because it takes the shine off every year. But despite the massive rant, and the associated trauma mentioned above, I do actually love the build up and am able to find lots to enjoy about the day each year, and know how lucky I am to have my amazing daughter and other family members around even if I grumble about them - also they always do the washing/ clearing up and I enjoy the cooking part!