It's my birthday tomorrow! Where's my present?
I'm at the age now (I'm about to turn 34) where I should be totally dreading yet another birthday, but that doesn't happen to me for some reason. Birthdays are still fun and exciting. I still act like a kid on my birthday, wanting to tell anyone who will listen, "Know what today is? It's my birthday!" I still have a sense of childlike entitlement on my birthday, like, "I shouldn't have to work today because it's my birthday. I shouldn't have to scrub the toilets today because it's my birthday. I shouldn't have to cook today because it's my birthday. You should be my slave today and execute my every whim because it's my birthday." That's not too much to ask, right?
Birthdays have always been special and sacred to me. It's the day you were born, dammit! The world should be rejoicing. It's a better place because YOU'RE in it.
As a kid, 34 wasn't old to me. Seriously. 34 was like a really cool age. You're like an adult or something. You can do whatever you want. At 34 you should have a steady job and pay your taxes. You're mature. And that's pretty awesome. So the kid-me would think the today-me was right on target. And I'm a rad mom with lots of tattoos. No way I saw that one coming, let me tell you.
See, around my birthday, I get pretty full of myself. I'm in a fantastic mood, and I think everybody loves me. May 6th is the height-of-my-ego day.
I go out and treat myself to new makeup (check) and a coffee (check). I get to pick what we have for dinner tomorrow night (homemade cheese pizza!). And I throw a little shindig for myself (on Saturday). Why the hell not? No sense in feeling down about aging another year... I want to celebrate! So I break out the beer and a massive amount of food, invite a few friends over, and do just that. We celebrate the whole weekend, not just the day. Sometimes it's good to feel important.
So here's to another year! Here's to friends and family! Here's to good health and happy days!
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