Why you have to embrace your ridiculously embarrassing family this Christmas. A pre-Christmas eulogy.

I think we can all safely say we are nearing adulthood and are at a reasonable age to start showing some sort of maturity.

Except perhaps my 11-year-old-boy fan club, who, unfortunately, weren’t able to come to my Blog’s Christmas party this year due to liquor licensing. Sorry boys. But apart from the slim minority we are mostly getting on in years.

This means that the clothes at Dotti have stopped suiting us. Coloured eyeliners, which once looked cute, now make us look like transvestites. And this also means we are too old to find our families embarrassing.

My father – Jim – is the most embarrassing man alive according to the Times Most Embarrassing List 2010. I don’t think he will be offended by that comment. Mostly because he wouldn’t know how to access my blog if he had dot point instructions, and also because he likes to keep the computer off to save electricity. Emergency emails only in our house.

Every Christmas, Jim likes to burn off every hair follicle on his right arm lighting the barbeque, and he will then whinge about his 3rd degree burns consistently for the next 5 days.

He also likes to bring the outdoor chairs inside so that the couches don’t get ruined. I use the term “ruined” loosely as the youngest member of the family is 22 and does not dribble or sweat in any unusually profuse manner.

This means the entire family sits on crusty old plastic chairs in the sweltering summer heat. Awesome.

Jim also likes to make sure the prawns in the fridge are comfortable on Christmas Day. This involves opening the fridge door every 5-10 minutes to check on them, and nurture them like tiny infants in the maternity ward. This leaves every piece of chocolate in the fridge shapeless and every bottle of champagne lukewarm. Thanks Dad.

As a 15-year-old, I found my family horrifically embarrassing.

This year, I have promised myself that at Christmas I will embrace the hideously undignified behaviour.

Perhaps I will down an entire bottle of warm champagne.

Perhaps I will do my hair with a GHD straightener and wear a lip and cheek stain and try and bring some kind of class to the festive season.

I urge you to allow your tipsy mother to take as many irritating photos of you holding bon-bons as is conceivably possible.

Encourage your pervy uncle Ron to walk around the pool in his DT’s without rolling your eyes.

Enjoy the reflection time when your little cousin Billy plays his Playstation for 8 hours without speaking one decipherable word.

Is your family mortifying? How many plastic camping chairs can your family fit in the living area?

Our record is 9. But it wasn't pretty.