Journalist Natalya Radulova - about what letter a woman of the 21st century would write to Santa Claus.
"Do you want to write a letter to the Chief Wizard of our country?" - A lady in a fluffy white fur coat rushed to me in the park. "To Vladimir Vladimirovich, or what?" - I was surprised. The woman giggled: “To Grandfather Frost! Here, look, we have a special mailbox made of wood and decorated with snowflakes. Here is paper, pencils. You can write any of your wishes, send them, and grandfather will fulfill them."
"He will perform, how will …" I grumbled, but took the pencil. - What to write on? The Snow Maiden, more reminiscent of an official in sables, fussed: “We have special forms printed on the recommendation of Roskomnadzorom” and handed me a sample established by the state - “Dear Santa Claus! My name is __, I am __ years old."
Pancake. Does Santa Claus care how old I am? He himself is also not very young, by the way, and asks questions to women, like on a dating site. "Do you have forms for adults?" - I clarified, not really hoping for success. The Snow Maiden threw up her hands: "Only if you just write on paper, in free form." I nodded: “I'll write. I'll write at home, then I'll bring it to you. Since you promise that Grandfather will fulfill everything. " The Snow Maiden widened her eyes: “Of course she will! Why would I be freezing here then!"
And I went home, remembering all my previous letters to Santa Claus - after all, I even published some messages on my blog. Why didn’t she ask! Self-dyeing hair roots, year-round sales, “so everyone is kinder and I’m prettier,” so that lace panties are comfortable and handsome men are heterosexual. I informed Grandfather that I needed a raise in salary, new furniture and a waist. I demanded a truly effective anti-wrinkle cream, so that in August supermarkets stopped selling watermelons only 10-50 kilograms each, neighbors no longer rolled a mysterious metal ball on the floor, and my mother stopped responding to every mistake I made with an exclamation: “I told you! ".
More than once I reminded Santa Claus about the need to bring ice cream labeled "100 grams - minus 200 calories" to the world, chocolates that burn fat, or at least give me a new metabolism, like a cormorant. “This bird manages to eat more in a day than it weighs itself, but does not get better in the hips,” I wrote indignantly. - In my opinion, this is unfair. Slender hips are much more necessary for women than for some cormorants. " The grandfather did not react. True, he sent me a fitness trainer who made me squat in the Smith machine, do lunges and only once a week smear lean chicken breast with mustard. After three years of such a life, realizing that I do not remember the taste of sweets and that I will never become fitness nyasha, I am again ready to ask for a food miracle. Grandpa, the Japanese invented low-calorie beer!Are our Russian craftsmen, with your help, unable to create a calorie-free Prague cake?
Do not forget about modern technologies, dear Frost. You don't have to come straight to my house with a bag full of gadgets, you can act more gracefully. May the loving businessman who gave me a new iPhone last year come back, make a more modern gift, and disappear again, blacklisting me.
I understand, grandfather, that he is not a lover or even a married man who has not even failed his mission, as my friend suggested, but your mysterious messenger, a real Apple angel, whose mission on earth is to give girls roses and modern devices, take care, do not rush events, say “You deserve more!”, and then suddenly disappear, leaving no sad memories of yourself.
And the time? I do not know how it is with you in Veliky Ustyug, but we are sorely lacking time for anything, dear Grandfather. Women's life is a constant choice between the desire to sleep and come to work with styling. This is an eternal dilemma: a manicure or buying groceries for a week, coffee with a friend or a movie with a loved one, a nephew's matinee or a business trip, a cucumber for lunch or under the eyes …
"What would you like to ask Santa Claus?" - I called a friend to hear some more recent ideas. And, for sure, she seemed to be waiting for my call, because she immediately blurted out: "I want people, like mosquitoes, to have 47 teeth." Clear. What more could a dentist want? “And something more lyrical? Self-knowledge there, the meaning of life, vivid emotions, fire of passion, declarations of love? " The friend was silent. “You know, Natasha… Man's declarations of love, the works of Nietzsche and the poetry of Byron must be heeded in youth, when you are impressionable and enthusiastic. Now all this is perceived as "What are you talking about, damn it?"
The dentist is right. The older we get, the harder it is to impress us. As a child, she and I squealed with joy when we saw the German Christmas tree garland flashing, and now the fireworks festival, at best, will only make us chuckle a little: "Well, nothing like that." And philosophical revelations and male confessions, probably, will not get us at all. We heard, we know. You'd better, dear, cleaned the floor in all rooms - this is real love.
It used to be that I wanted a man to have Stephen Hawking's intelligence, press like a tortoise shell and income comparable to the budget of the Tver region. And now I realized that if a guy knows the meaning of the word "existentialism" and does not snore at night, this is already a great gift. And we'll be together for a year, two, fifty, or we'll part right after the New Year - it's not so scary. As Nekrasov wrote there: "Love as long as you love, endure, as long as you wait, goodbye while it says goodbye - and God will judge you" …
Or maybe I just became, finally, an adult? Not that she stopped believing in miracles, but she seemed to exhale. After all, being an adult means that if you don’t have something, then you don’t worry, you don’t climb out of your skin so that it will appear, which means “no, you don’t need it”. There is no such figure as Katka, no matter how much you puff in Smith while the coach shouts “Exhale! Exhalation!"? Well, okay. There is no man who is ready to take you to the Maldives in winter? Yes, I myself will bring whoever you want! No plump lips and no fillers? And figs with them! But I can smile broadly.
So just give me and my loved ones more smiles this year, Santa Claus!
PS And the waist.
