Growing up, our Christmas tree was decorated in an overdone mess of colored balls and glittery shapes with cheap, scratchy garland and homemade popcorn strings that gave off a stale odor after a few days. Seemingly, if it was hangable, it was hung! There was no rhyme or reason to the visual cacophony that passed for holiday spirit in our home. It could damn near cause a seizure.

Atop that whole blob of colorful shit sat the world’s ugliest angel. She was the stuff of nightmares. Truly.

Every year, I tried to straighten her wired wings and arrange the lights evenly under her diaphanous skirt. Each season required a different repair; whether to reinforce the cheap cardboard bottom with scotch tape or to tie her little felt hands together to keep them clasped in prayer. Her hair was a frizzy mess that could not be combed or styled in any way that would be considered presentable on a real, breathing human. Her painted on makeup was bright and garish. She was truly hideous but every year she was carefully placed on top of the psychedelic tree and sat there, slightly tilted, until she was put back into the smashed box until the next December.

I lost track of her long ago but never forgot her. As an adult, putting up my own dreaded tree, I’d think about that ugly angel every single time. My husband and children have heard her story more times than they care to count. I’ve never had another angel on my tree. I moved to a more non-denominational star and I’m more than happy with that generic choice. It is definitely more pleasing to the eye than that tattered, whorishly decorated, pious tart.

Two nights ago, feeling nostalgic, I half-heartedly scrolled though hundreds of angels listed as “vintage angel topper” on eBay. Man, there are some gaudy and gruesome gals out there! Swipe after swipe, I laughed and gasped at the endless selection of these beastly, condescending ladies.

Suddenly, one of them made my heart stop! There she was in all her ugly glory! Well, I’m 99% sure she is the same model. Who the hell knows what my memory has retained, forgotten, or warped. The truth is, my body and brain reacted to the picture before my eyes did and that’s gotta mean something, right?

This copy was a little more worn than mine. She clearly wasn’t taken care of in the same way I tried to take care of mine each year. She is dirty and she needs some TLC. I bought her and, when she arrives, I will lovingly clean and repair her to the best of my crafty ability.

While she won’t ever sit atop my hated tree, this imposter will always be displayed, slightly tilted, with honor at Christmas time.

Behold, the ugliest angel!