Cursing the 20 mins of my life I would never get back, I admitted defeat, unplugged the curlers and went to remind my children for the 74th billionth time to brush their teeth. I had blindly led myself into the comparison trap.

It means you are still stifling polite when ruddy-cheeked Martin from accounts makes his way over to you, brandishing a forlorn looking sprig of mistletoe. 'Um no thank you, Martin...'.  However were you more emotionally lubricated, you could probably find two far more effective words to use on Martin.