What Your Favorite Christmas Cookie Says About You

The holiday cookie provides a window into human psychology. We can glean a lot of information from unconscious consumer choices, and with this data we can make certain assumptions about personality types based on Christmas cookie preferences. As someone who really enjoys cookies and has spent a lot of time around people, I present the results of my initial study.

Decorated Sugar Cookies
You’re the ultimate conformist, content to chomp away mindlessly at these basic-bitch cookie-cutter confections while other more interesting options go cold on the plate. You might as well just shove a handful of flour and sugar in your cakehole, you philistine. You’re the type of person who says they like “all types of music” but the only album on your iPhone is The Very Best of the Eagles.


Gingerbread man
It’s Christmas Eve and you’ve waited all year for this moment: a tiny, powerless man is under your complete control. You hold his fate in your mighty hands. This little fellow is a stand-in, a totem, for every man who interrupted you, catcalled you, talked down to you, groped you on a bus or won the presidency under a dark cloud of international deceit. And now you, a giant, empowered woman, will devour him. Do you take a series of tiny, excruciating nibbles, working your leisurely way from the outer extremities (where the most nerve endings are)? Or do you crunch down on his little idiot head and end it all in one huge bite? The choices are delicious.


Ominous shortbread with unpronounceable German name
Made with a tin stamp smuggled out of Poland in the 1940s, this cookie bears the baggage of history. The tidy Teutonic architecture suggests Christmas’s dark legacy of institutional anti-Semitism and the homely dread of the early Industrial Age. There are so few pieces of sugar stuck to its arid exterior that you can count each one; it contains the exact minimum amount of sweetness required by EU trade guidelines to allow it to be classified as a cookie. The shortbread is a desiccating lump of plaster in your mouth—a dog treat for humans, basically. This cookie is a martial punishment for its own frivolity.


Chocolate chip cookies
I gotta say, I like your style. When everyone else goes this way, you go that way. You know what you like and you take it where you find it. You know that the chocolate chip is objectively the best, most desirable cookie. So that’s your go-to. Every. Time. You have no use for the sentimental trappings of the season, and you won’t eat a substandard snack just because it summons some vague sense of flavor-based nostalgia. You are a person of the Now. Hurry up and eat the other ones and leave the rubes with the shortbread.


This monstrosity
Seriously? This is your favorite? This sugar-dusted dog log left out in the sun for the dry season? What even is this thing? It looks like something a trained chimp would make out of the nut scraps scattered around his enclosure as a gift of friendship for his favorite handler. Did the recipe say, “Roll a cat turd in whatever you find underneath the couch cushions?” Is this a prop on a hidden camera show? I don’t think you’re actually supposed to eat this one; it’s like a garnish to make all the other cookies on the plate look more delicious. If this is the first cookie you go for, you’re a twisted freak. Remember to unzip your gimp mask all the way before gobbling down this obscenity.

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