Ugly is in the eye of the beholder

This morning a person I don't know very well asked me whether I was on my way to an ugly sweater contest, and the problem with not knowing this person very well was that I couldn't tell whether he was joking. It's true that I was wearing a festive red sweater with fuzzy snowflakes scattered all over it, a sweater I love because it's warm and cozy and it matches my car (and that last consideration tells you more about me than about the sweater), but I've always felt that this sweater was tastefully restrained, unlike the gaudy, overdecorated, sparkly, jingly sweaters that end up winning those ugly sweater contests. So I didn't know what to say to this guy and I ended up saying nothing, which felt like a repeat of previous conversations in which he had struck me dumb by making statements that either suggested a sense of contempt for me and my work or else were intended as (not very successful) jokes, but the only way for me to understand the intent of these comments would be to get to know this guy better, which would require spending a lot more time in conversation with a person who may (?) consider what I do for a living as less than useless. Or maybe he's just joking! I don't know, am I overthinking this?

I spent way too much time ruminating over this on the way home and then I threw together a batch of cranberry pumpkin bread, which allowed me to take out my frustrations with a wire whisk and also use up leftover Thanksgiving ingredients, which felt virtuous. Now I intend to sit in front of my Christmas tree in my holiday sweater and listen to Christmas music as the cranberry pumpkin bread baking in the oven fills my house with a delicious aroma, and, yes, I'll enjoy the company of the sassy little bird sitting under my tree--after all, it wouldn't dare make troublingly ambiguous comments about my attire because its attire is just as festive as mine. (And not at all ugly.)