And of our own self images, they’re not influenced by much positive representations. Especially those of us at stage IV. The stage no one wants to know much about at all. We, the misfits, don’t measure up to Santa’s ultra high standards, and become the toys left behind on Christmas Eve. Weepy-eyed, we stand shivering from the cold, waving goodbye to the tail end of a sleigh, to Santa Clause’s fat ass, and reindeer tail lights.