In America, bigger is better. The holidays are no exception — we want big fireworks on the Fourth of July, big skeletons for Halloween and big savings at the car dealership on Presidents’ Day Weekend. (No, I don’t know why you’re supposed to buy a car then, either. Stop asking.)
Anyway, Christmas is the biggest festival of them all. As a nation, we spend hundreds of billions on it every year. And if you’re gonna drop a stack of cash on a big spread of gifts, you’ll want a big decorated tree in the middle, ideally facing out a front window so that everyone else can see how bright and big it is.
There are different kinds of big, however, and growing up, I assumed height was the way to go: My family tried to pick out towering trees that almost touched the ceiling of our living room. When I picture Christmas trees from childhood, they’re very tall.
Last night, though, as I strolled the neighborhood to stretch my legs after work, I chanced upon a window with a different sort of Christmas tree in it. This one was haphazardly strung with different kinds of lights, and it wasn’t particularly tall. Even so, it held my gaze.
Why was I staring at a stranger’s tree like this? The next moment, I understood: The tree was thicc.
We have a perfectly nice, conical tree this year — small enough for a one-bedroom apartment — but all at once I coveted the curvy tree. My friends admired the pear-shaped specimen as well. “She IS that bitch,” one wrote. “If a Christmas tree’s mom was in a Pixar movie,” another commented, alluding to the number of matriarchs in the studio’s animated films who canonically have dump truck asses. If we live in an age of twerking, juicy asses and lustful compliments like “girl, you’re thicker than a bowl of oatmeal,” then this tree was incredibly on trend. It belonged on Instagram. I wondered if anyone else gravitated toward trees with a Rubenesque aesthetic.
The answer: Hell yeah they do.
What beauties! What plumpers! The vibe of a thicc Christmas tree is something unique to the round, full shape — they project the jolly air of Santa himself, as well as his stately grace. They are friendlier, softer and (dare I say it?) more sensuous than triangular trees. While Americans commonly buy fir trees for their pyramidal form, the cult of the chubby tree was celebrating right under our noses. How I could have been missing such a delightful tradition these many years is beyond me, but never again will I be swayed by the pointy default. A bulbous tree is a blessing.
I don’t mean to oversell it, folks. But I get the feeling these wide boys are the true meaning of Christmas. Peace on earth, goodwill, yeah, great stuff. A little too ambitious, however. A zaftig tree — now that’s doable. Get the scientists started on breeding the most ample-bottomed evergreens they can. The days of the skinny cone are numbered. This is what America wants, whether they know it yet or not. It’s rockin’ around the Christmas tree, not up and down. Someday I want a tree that’s just a perfect orb. And I’m already dreaming of December 2021.