Don’t Call Me Jolly

It happened again this year – I was described as jolly.

Every year, for as long as I can remember, someone around Christmas time has described me as jolly. Now I’m flattered that the image of Saint Nick has a tendency to remind people of me, but I must admit this back handed compliment drives me crazy.

I feel like Alfred in Miracle on 34th Street, the kid who played Santa each year at the Y because “they had a suite - but no padding”. I know I come with my own padding and I have a tendency to wear a lot of red, but honestly it makes me cringe every time. The worst part is I first started to notice this trend in third grade when I actually was Santa in the school Christmas show. I brought down the house with my Santa presentation, as you can expect, but I didn’t know at the time jolliness would haunt me forever. I know I should be flattered to be called essentially a happy person but please pick another word. I can take any of the other synonyms: cheerful, fun or jovial even, but please leave the jolly for old men in white beards – thanks.