It was the worst way to give a gift to a teen girl.
Let me back up.
I'm sure you've seen homilies or sermons when the priest comes up to the ambo with two gifts, one wrapped in plain brown paper, and the other wrapped in the fanciest paper and bow. It's a well-used crutch, used when the priest runs out of sermon ideas. The moral of the story is that the plainest packages often have the prettiest gifts, while the pretty packages are meaningless or empty--just like how Baby Jesus was born in a plain old manger and not in some silver Trump-ish baby carriage.
I have an addenum to that: Still be careful how you wrap gifts. Don't use just any old box that fits the gift perfectly, no matter how frugal or earth-conscious you are. Some boxes should be put out for recycling ASAP, instead.
The gifter, who shall remain anonymous, is a well-meaning person but doesn't always think things through before saying or doing things. It's said person who once told me, after I had a growth spurt, "Boy, Holly, you're not so fat anymore!" I think she meant to say, "You've grown!" but it didn't come out that way.
So. Christmas Day.
With a plastered-on smile in order to show my dad that I'm in no way being ungrateful for any of the gifts, I start carefully ripping the paper off the box given to me by the aforementioned person. It was...a scale.
A pretty nice bathroom scale that gives you your weight down to a decimal point and analyzes your body fat. My smile remained plastered on. "Oh, how nice of ____!" I said, while subconsciously wondering if it's true--that I really was fat.
"Open the box," Mom interjected, trying to stave off my teen girl worries as fast as she could, so I did--and inside a whole bunch of wadded up paper was a small Polaroid camera with several refill rolls. Now, that was cool--a Polaroid! It printed tiny strips of images, and I think my little siblings used it more than I did, taking instant pictures of the dogs and of each other, and I took photos of them. It was the COOLEST thing ever to them.
I don't remember what happened to the camera, but it probably was discarded. Or else I let the littlest of the little siblings play with it once I ran out of rolls of film, and they no longer made refills.
I still have some of the photos of them hidden away, stashed safely in a memory box of my siblings, of little meaningful things I couldn't bear to discard, like a Polly Pocket, or a handwritten valentine.
It was a fun gift that made memories--but said giftee probably should not have wrapped it up in a scale box. Especially when gifting to an extremely self-conscious teen girl.