Real or Fake Christmas Trees? Here’s Why I Made My Choice

Every year around this time, the same debate pops up like Mariah Carey the second Thanksgiving ends, real Christmas trees or fake Christmas trees? People get heated about this topic, like it’s politics or pineapple on pizza. Families argue. Friends judge. Facebook turns into a battlefield of pine needles and plastic branches. But after years of thinking about it, and dragging a tree out of my garage, I’ve officially landed on a side. Fake Christmas trees win. And yes, I’m ready to explain myself.

First of all, I’m not killing a tree. I’m not some hardcore tree hugger or anything, I recycle when I remember, but hear me out. Imagine you’re a Douglas fir, just a little sapling, dreaming big dreams. You’re thinking, “One day I’ll be tall. Maybe birds will live in me.” Then every year, all your friends disappear when they’re like five feet tall because someone wanted a cozy vibe. That’s dark. They get chopped down, dragged into someone’s living room, decorated, watered for a few weeks, then tossed out like yesterday’s leftovers.

Now I’ll admit it, real trees smell amazing. That fresh pine scent hits different. But they’re also a fire hazard. One dry branch, one spark, and suddenly Christmas turns into a firefighter calendar shoot. I’m sure Martha Stewart would strongly disagree with me, because in the Martha Stewart lifestyle, a real tree is mandatory. But I like living dangerously in other ways, not by risking my house burning down.

What I really love about a fake tree is convenience. I open the garage, pull it out of a couple garbage bags, and boom, Christmas. It looks exactly the same every year. No needles everywhere. No watering schedule. And mine already has snow on it. My tree snow never melts, which means I get a white Christmas every year in Florida.

Sure, I don’t get to go to a Christmas tree farm like I did when I was a kid, but let’s be honest, we live in Florida. That tree farm is a tent on Pine Island Road next to a gas station.

At the end of the day, I don’t get why this is such a big deal. I can hang ornaments on a fake tree. I can take pictures with it. It looks real enough. It feels just as Christmasy to me. And like any good plastic surgeon will tell you, if you can’t tell the difference, does it really matter?

In the end, it all comes down to preference, and that’s the best part about living in America, freedom of choice. Real tree or fake tree, do what makes you happy. You still have to pay taxes and eventually die, so you might as well enjoy Christmas the way you want. Sit by your tree, real or fake, sip some hot cocoa, and have a very merry Christmas.