Dear Santa,

It’s me, Butter, your favorite adult-child hybrid who still believes in magic and is definitely not above bribing you with cookies. Yes, I’m back with my annual wish list—but this time, it’s different. No ponies (mostly a joke), no “world peace” clichés (though that’d be nice), and absolutely no boring adulting resolutions that make me feel like I should already have my life together.

No, this year I need the good stuff—the kind of gifts that don’t fit neatly in your sleigh but can turn my life into something truly magical. Think of it as a win-win: I get what I want, and the world gets a better version of me. Ready? Let’s dive in.

1. Consistency in My Workout Routine (And a Junk Food Lockbox)
   Santa, let’s be real; my relationship with fitness is… complicated. I start strong, channeling my inner gym queen, but by week three, I’m negotiating with myself like, “Walking to the fridge counts as cardio, right?” I need a sprinkle of your North Pole endurance and maybe a magical workout genie whispering in my ear: “Butter, put down the fries and pick up the dumbbells.”

Also, could you help me keep junk food at arm’s length? Not forever—I’m not asking for miracles—but at least long enough to pretend I’m thriving on green smoothies and kale.

2. A Patience and Compassion Refill
   Santa, you know I’m a doctor, and some days, my patience wears thinner than your cookie supply on Christmas Eve. I love my job, but let’s just say not every patient understands that WebMD isn’t the ultimate authority on life and death. Could you gift me some extra compassion for those challenging moments and a big ol’ jar of patience? Maybe with a side of Zen vibes to help me keep my cool when life feels like a medical sitcom?
3. Wealth for Dreams (And Maybe a Few Gadgets)
   Okay, let’s talk money, Santa—not just for me, but for my plans. Sure, I wouldn’t mind a shiny new MacBook or an upgraded iPhone (a girl’s gotta stay tech-savvy), but that’s not the main reason I’m asking. I want to go big on sustainability:

Ditch plastic for good.
Install solar panels on my house.
Launch a community kitchen for people in need.
Start “green doctor” initiatives because saving the planet and saving lives go hand in hand.
And, if it’s not asking too much, I’d love to adopt a few girls someday, give them an education, and help them dream as big as I do. Big goals need big bucks, Santa. You understand.

4. Happiness and Wisdom (The Abstract Stuff)
   Look, I know you’re the “gift” guy, not the “life coach,” but hear me out. I’m asking for happiness—not the fleeting kind that comes with a new pair of shoes, but the deep, lasting joy that makes even tough days feel okay. And wisdom? That’s for those moments when I need to avoid texting my ex or spiraling over things I can’t control. It’s abstract, sure, but if anyone can deliver, it’s you.
5. Resilience in Bulk (Preferably Chewable)
   Life has its ups and downs, Santa, and I need resilience to weather the storms. Think of it like those gummy vitamins for adults—something I can chew on when life throws me curveballs. Loss, failures, challenges—I want to face them all without losing my spark. A big box of resilience, please. And make it taste like chocolate while you’re at it.
6. Innovative Ideas for My Creative Ambitions
   Santa, here’s where I really need your magic. I have big dreams of being an author, YouTuber, and podcaster, but let’s face it—there’s enough boring content out there. I want to create things that are useful and entertaining, like:

A book of hilarious essays called “Prescription: Laughter,” where I share funny stories about medicine and life.
A YouTube series like “Doctor Tries Normal People Things” where I embarrass myself attempting TikTok trends or DIY projects.
A podcast called “The Butter Files” where I spill the tea on everything from medical myths to life’s messiest lessons.

Santa, I need these ideas to hit the sweet spot: not too serious (because nobody needs another anatomy lecture) but not so silly that I end up as a meme. Help me find that magic formula to keep people laughing, learning, and coming back for more.

Final Notes:
So, Santa, there you have it. A wish list that’s equal parts ridiculous and meaningful, just like me. I promise to be good (well, better), recycle religiously, and finally stop hitting snooze a million times. And I’ll leave you those fancy gingerbread cookies you secretly love.

Deal?

Your favorite wannabe-elf,
Butter

P.S. If resilience gummies or magical idea potions don’t exist, I’ll settle for wine. Lots of it.