As each birthday approaches, it always
takes me a minute to remember how old I am. The whole year before I
turned 30 I thought I was already 30, but I was only 29! Thank
goodness my husband is older than me by eight months. I always just
ask him how old he is to know how old I'm going to be on my next
birthday.
I'm not intentionally trying to forget
how old I am or making up my age by saying I'm "33 ... again".
Really! I guess my brain is just getting older.
I am all for celebrating birthdays and
announcing your age. I know women who removed their birth dates from
Facebook and even went so far as to temporarily delete their social media profiles because they didn't want friends and family wishing them a
public happy birthday. What's the big deal
if you're 30? 40? 50? Are you a Jehovah's Witness who doesn't
celebrate birthdays at all? No? Are you alive? Yes? Then celebrate
the damn birthday.
Spend the day doing something you want
to do. Or spend at least an hour doing something you want to do if that's all the time you can get.
Eat your favorite food for breakfast,
lunch, and/or dinner. (Even if you have to make it.) Have cake and
ice cream for dessert.
Didn't get the birthday present you
were truly wishing for? Go out and buy your own present! It's your
freaking day of birth, and you are one more year older and wiser and
better, so treat yo self!
Don't hide your birthday. Don't ignore
it. And certainly don't make disparaging remarks about your birthday
and how you're so old and how you look terrible and you're showing
your age. Our kids are listening and watching.
Celebrate you! Celebrate your life!
Blow out those candles and have a happy birthday!
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