Advertisements on streaming services aren’t surprising anymore. On Hulu, the platform that my current favorite TV show is on, one 45-minute episode is interspersed with at least five one-to-two minute ad breaks. From weight loss medication to baby diapers to commercials for other shows, I usually block out the incessant jingles and slogans.
But a few weeks ago, amid medical disclaimers and greasy pizza deals, a certain craft store rolled out its first Christmas ad.
I just had to check the calendar – it’s still October, right?
For many, Halloween marks the beginning of the holiday season. It’s a quick sprint to the finish of the year: Halloween, Thanksgiving and Christmas, with New Year’s Eve tacked on to the end of merry wishes and figgy puddings. The October-November-December sprint is my favorite time of year. Gone are the long sweltering days and itchy bug bites. Hello, sweaters! Hello, peppermint hot chocolate! Hello, family gatherings and good food! I can just see winter break on the horizon.
Most of us remember well the feeling that holidays brought as children. The flutter of excitement I felt started on Halloween as I dragged my parents door to door as a ballerina, a cheerleader or an archer. Then came Thanksgiving, with trips to visit my extended family in Illinois or Wisconsin. My favorite activity was making little turkeys out of Oreo, Reese’s and Whoppers smushed together with icing. And every morning in December, the first thing I would do was check the window for snow.
Holiday ads in October are getting me excited for December, but on social media, I’ve been ready for the season since July.
I’ve seen holiday-themed posts on my social media feeds since the summer. “Summerween” and Christmas in July began the countdowns, with nostalgic photos flashing across the screen to classic songs by Vince Guaraldi or Nat King Cole. A post from July 18 might say, “23 weeks ‘til Christmas!” Every time a festive post comes across my feed, I feel that flutter of childlike excitement again. But then the feeling is quickly gone.
Recently, I’ve been swiping away as soon as I hear “chestnuts roasting…”
The past few Christmasses (and Halloweens, and Thanksgivings), I’ve been left feeling unfulfilled. I’ll see a hundred posts of picture-perfect costumes, beautiful Thanksgiving dinner tables and shimmering Christmas decorations, and I’m inspired to have the best celebration ever (as my brother once put it, to “win Christmas”). But then, on those special days, expectations fall flat; I’m asked a dozen times what my Halloween costume is supposed to be, or I burn the casserole or my plastic pine tree looks sparse compared to the Hallmark scenes on my screen. I build up this image of the “perfect” Halloween, Thanksgiving or Christmas, and when my expectations are inevitably unmet, I’m left feeling like I missed out on the holiday.
That’s not to say my holidays are terrible. The opposite, in fact. I’m looking forward to gorging on half-priced candy on November 1 and making Oreo turkeys with my friends before Thanksgiving break. Long holiday drives, itchy borrowed quilts and ritual rewatchings of “White Christmas” are some aspects of my most fond memories with my family. But those memories, old and new, are too often trumped by my missed expectations of the “perfect” holiday – a nebulous, undefined and fickle ideal influenced by unrealistic social media standards.
Through social media, we often experience social comparison theory, a psychological concept where an individual compares themselves and their abilities to others, as defined by the American Psychological Association. This comparison can affect someone’s self-esteem either positively or negatively.
Social media use has been shown to encourage social comparison and negatively impact a person’s self-esteem. A 2024 study titled “The Insta-Comparison Game” found that its results were consistent with the theory that “individuals compare themselves to other Instagram users who portray idealized lifestyles, leading them to feel inadequate in comparison.” In the study, social comparison was positively correlated with higher rates of depression in participants.
Since July, I’ve been comparing my Halloween costumes to those of professional costume-makers online. A crispy casserole may not be Instagram-worthy, but what’s inside still tastes good. While a “Ralph Lauren Christmas” isn’t quite in my budget, I’ve realized that the decor I currently have is plenty to add a little holiday cheer to my room. Besides, it’s not the items I have that bring me the most joy, but the memories I collect with friends and family.
Over-exposure to idealized holiday posts will only exacerbate my feelings of “missing out,” even if I have everything I could need for a fulfilling time with friends and family. So, this holiday season, I plan to step away from social media and an “Instagram-versus-reality” mentality. I’m going to be careful of the media I consume and how early in the season I consume it. Instead, I’ll focus on the small, concrete moments with loved ones. And, to foster that feeling of childhood excitement, check the window every morning for snow.
Photo courtesy of Alanna May.
Eight weeks ‘til Christmas
Advertisements on streaming services aren’t surprising anymore. On Hulu, the platform that my current favorite TV show is on, one 45-minute episode is interspersed with at least five one-to-two minute ad breaks. From weight loss medication to baby diapers to commercials for other shows, I usually block out the incessant jingles and slogans.
But a few weeks ago, amid medical disclaimers and greasy pizza deals, a certain craft store rolled out its first Christmas ad.
I just had to check the calendar – it’s still October, right?
For many, Halloween marks the beginning of the holiday season. It’s a quick sprint to the finish of the year: Halloween, Thanksgiving and Christmas, with New Year’s Eve tacked on to the end of merry wishes and figgy puddings. The October-November-December sprint is my favorite time of year. Gone are the long sweltering days and itchy bug bites. Hello, sweaters! Hello, peppermint hot chocolate! Hello, family gatherings and good food! I can just see winter break on the horizon.
Most of us remember well the feeling that holidays brought as children. The flutter of excitement I felt started on Halloween as I dragged my parents door to door as a ballerina, a cheerleader or an archer. Then came Thanksgiving, with trips to visit my extended family in Illinois or Wisconsin. My favorite activity was making little turkeys out of Oreo, Reese’s and Whoppers smushed together with icing. And every morning in December, the first thing I would do was check the window for snow.
Holiday ads in October are getting me excited for December, but on social media, I’ve been ready for the season since July.
I’ve seen holiday-themed posts on my social media feeds since the summer. “Summerween” and Christmas in July began the countdowns, with nostalgic photos flashing across the screen to classic songs by Vince Guaraldi or Nat King Cole. A post from July 18 might say, “23 weeks ‘til Christmas!” Every time a festive post comes across my feed, I feel that flutter of childlike excitement again. But then the feeling is quickly gone.
Recently, I’ve been swiping away as soon as I hear “chestnuts roasting…”
The past few Christmasses (and Halloweens, and Thanksgivings), I’ve been left feeling unfulfilled. I’ll see a hundred posts of picture-perfect costumes, beautiful Thanksgiving dinner tables and shimmering Christmas decorations, and I’m inspired to have the best celebration ever (as my brother once put it, to “win Christmas”). But then, on those special days, expectations fall flat; I’m asked a dozen times what my Halloween costume is supposed to be, or I burn the casserole or my plastic pine tree looks sparse compared to the Hallmark scenes on my screen. I build up this image of the “perfect” Halloween, Thanksgiving or Christmas, and when my expectations are inevitably unmet, I’m left feeling like I missed out on the holiday.
That’s not to say my holidays are terrible. The opposite, in fact. I’m looking forward to gorging on half-priced candy on November 1 and making Oreo turkeys with my friends before Thanksgiving break. Long holiday drives, itchy borrowed quilts and ritual rewatchings of “White Christmas” are some aspects of my most fond memories with my family. But those memories, old and new, are too often trumped by my missed expectations of the “perfect” holiday – a nebulous, undefined and fickle ideal influenced by unrealistic social media standards.
Textbooks: The Price is NOT Right
Through social media, we often experience social comparison theory, a psychological concept where an individual compares themselves and their abilities to others, as defined by the American Psychological Association. This comparison can affect someone’s self-esteem either positively or negatively.
Social media use has been shown to encourage social comparison and negatively impact a person’s self-esteem. A 2024 study titled “The Insta-Comparison Game” found that its results were consistent with the theory that “individuals compare themselves to other Instagram users who portray idealized lifestyles, leading them to feel inadequate in comparison.” In the study, social comparison was positively correlated with higher rates of depression in participants.
Since July, I’ve been comparing my Halloween costumes to those of professional costume-makers online. A crispy casserole may not be Instagram-worthy, but what’s inside still tastes good. While a “Ralph Lauren Christmas” isn’t quite in my budget, I’ve realized that the decor I currently have is plenty to add a little holiday cheer to my room. Besides, it’s not the items I have that bring me the most joy, but the memories I collect with friends and family.
Over-exposure to idealized holiday posts will only exacerbate my feelings of “missing out,” even if I have everything I could need for a fulfilling time with friends and family. So, this holiday season, I plan to step away from social media and an “Instagram-versus-reality” mentality. I’m going to be careful of the media I consume and how early in the season I consume it. Instead, I’ll focus on the small, concrete moments with loved ones. And, to foster that feeling of childhood excitement, check the window every morning for snow.
Photo courtesy of Alanna May.