Friday, March 10, 2006
Happy Birthday to me
The thing about birthdays is this, you either love them, or you hate them. I fall into the LOVE THEM category.
I think birthdays are fantastic and everyone should celebrate them no matter how old you are. In fact, I’m a firm believer that the older you get, the more you should celebrate. After all, you made it through another year, what a gift that is. Appreciate it; be proud of it, LOVE IT.
I’ve always been a big birthday person. From the time I was a little girl, birthdays were always a big deal in my house. My mom would make these insane cakes, of little dolls in a dress made of cake, or a picturesque scene by a lake in a park, with edible swans. Every birthday was a special occasion. So I’ve grown up to think of my birthday as a very special day.
As I get older, a lot of my friends don’t want to acknowledge their birthdays, either because they don’t want to recognize the fact that they are getting older, or because of some misplaced sense of guilt, that perhaps it is inappropriate to celebrate one’s own birth?
I disagree wholeheartedly. And maybe as I’m proudly stepping officially into my “thirty-somethings”, certain people feel that I shouldn’t make a big deal out of it, but to them I say “phewy”! That’s right “phewy!” It’s my day to celebrate me, to celebrate life, to celebrate another year on this planet, and I will make a big deal out of it if I want, and if you don’t like it…well, I don’t much care.
So, yes, I am one of those people that tells everyone around me that it’s my birthday, and I dress extra nice on that day, and I treat myself to something special, and I get giddy when others remember that it is my day. I throw myself birthday parties; I buy myself gifts. I love the attention on this one day of the year.
And I don’t know why it is that society makes it seem so wrong to do so. Why should we feel guilty that we want to celebrate ourselves one measly day (or maybe the week surrounding it) out of an entire year? I work hard all year, I take care of others, and I remember their special days and make a big deal out of them as well, so why shouldn’t I be excited when it’s my turn?
I’ve attempted the so-called good manners on this issue, attempted to tell people that it wasn’t a big deal, that I didn’t need presents…like everyone I say, “oh, you didn’t have to, you shouldn’t have, I don’t need anything”, but damned if I don’t get happy like a kid in a candy store when someone gives me a present, surprises me with a cake, or just simply sends me a card.
And to every single person who has remembered me today, I just want to say THANK YOU; you really have made my day, over and over again. I feel blessed; I have some incredible friends. You guys make it worth it.
So there it is, I’m 31 today (30 freakin’ ONE), and I still act like a child on my birthday. And you know what? As long as I have birthdays, I will continue to do so, because I’m blessed each and every year with a new start, and I intent to start each and every year celebrating myself.
Who’s with me?