{fingers in ears}
Lalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalal.....!

I remember riding with my mom who was driving both of us to a shopping center. I was 13 or 14, and along the way, mom said to me in a solemn voice, "Billy, you do know there's no Santa Claus, right?" and I said yes I did. She might as well have told me I was adopted!!!

This was, in retrospect, my first attack of the "fooling myself" syndrome. Back around 1961 or 1962 when I was 5 or 6, somewhere in the back of my head I knew it was baloney but tried to convince myself that those sounds I heard really were reindeer on the roof...

Around 1971 I would try to convince myself that no, I was not getting yet another giant zit right on the end of my nose...

Around the same time I also believed that my stepmother did not know about my jerking off habits even though she did all of the laundry...

In 1979 I convinced myself that georgeous Kevin W. really did like me until I caught him making out in a car with a mutual friend.

The latest (an longest delusion) is that I will live forever. It must be human nature for us to somehow think that we are the exception to the rule.

But oddly enough I don't think I was harmed way back when when I learned about Santa. Perhaps the "ultimate wake-up moment" was just a part of learning (somewhat sadly) how the world really works.

I was 4. My Dad asked me if I heard the bells on the roof. A year later I realized it had been a ruse. I was pissed. Honestly. It affected how I felt about everything afterwards that I was supposed to take on "faith." That's how I was able to say goodbye to organized religion before it had a chance to say goodbye to me!

it was after presenting me with a hot pink snuggie since he is one of my dearest friends, and I put it on, Michael Musto set it on fire with a cigarette lighter and a deranged glint in his eye, and of course snuggies are so cheap they cannot be expected to be flame-retardant. Now I look like Chimp Lady thanks to my dear friend Musto, and I cannot believe that any Saint, let alone fat jolly Nick, would allow such Xmas evil to happen -- even in Musto's world!

being raised in a old german family, I grew-up w saint nicholas. and Dec 5th was the day to exchange presents per tradition.

I knew at a very young age that santa claus was a crock of shit.

Thanks for ruining it for me, bitch!

If my sister couldn't have him nobody could.
I was six she was nine.

I sort of figured something was up when I presented a really long list of expensive presents I wanted to my Mother for her to forward to Santa and she looked at the list and said, "You realize don't you that we have to pay Santa to come here and bring you presents?" WTF?

When I saw mommy kissing Santa Claus.

The day I noticed that Santa had the same handwriting as my Dad.

Age 7, all I wanted was a beautiful white Christmas and asked Santa, three different times 'directly', to make my wish come true. I basically interrogated my mom and asked her pointe blank if he existed and after I waterboarded her-- kidding-- I got the answer of him being as phony as the easter bunny and the tooth fairy, neither of which I ever believed.

we didn't have a chimney!

I never believed in him.
The logistics were impossible.

We did have a good Santa on local TV
every day after school in December.
All us kids watched him every day!
(I still enjoy the reruns today.)
The rest of the year he did an after-school show
as Freddy Fudd, showing cartoons.

We also didn't have a chimney.

Never believed for the following reasons:

1.Strangers weren't allowed in our house.
2.We didn't have a chimney, so he would have to break in. That would've been bad for him.
3. Parents never mentioned him.
4. If Santa came to everybody's house, why did he skip some of my friends up the street?

My Hubby has given me the evil eye because I don't tell my 2 year old about Santa. I refuse to lie to my son. It may seem harsh but I never want my son to think that I would purposefully lie to him.