Last year around this time, I felt miserable turning
35. Most people hate turning 30, but for
me, 35 is that age that made me look back and reminisce my life. It’s like that Sex and City episode when
Carrie felt depressed about turning 40.
Last year, that was me. It felt
as if the things I wanted to do were eons away from my grasp. I felt miserable so much that I was very
combative with people who were sunny and happy and disgusting! To me, the end of my life came to its end and
I officially became a married old hag.
That continued for the rest of the year and the new year until………today.
I don’t know what it is about today that makes me feel
invigorated. Maybe it’s that guy at the
Argentinian bakery shop who kept on hitting on me despite the fact that the
hubster was with me. Or that waitress at
Chili’s who really wouldn’t serve me my Long Island Iced Tea until I showed my
ID. I don’t care if it was protocol, she
still carded me, so shut it! Or that
twentysomething cutie pie who thought I was still in college and was ready to
buy me coffee. Maybe these people really
made feel that age is just a number, and that how we look can be
deceiving. (That, or maybe I just wanted to be deceived).
I’m not really sure what’s different from last year, but I
know the similarities with all my birthdays.
For one, I like having people greet me on this day. People telling me happy birthday makes me
feel that they are celebrating my being part of this dysfunctional world we
live in. Now, I’m not just talking about
the mandatory HBD greetings (though I appreciate them as well), but those who
actually call or contact me and send out heartfelt and sometimes funny birthday
messages. Most people hate being
reminded about the additional year to their age, but I relish them. Those people make me feel that I am a part of
their lives, no matter how miniscule it may be.
Another thing that feels the same to me is how I love
getting birthday cakes. It’s not a celebration without the cake. Not an ice cream cake, not some gourmet tart
shit, but a birthday cake. I don’t care
if you put my age on top, but I want my birthday cake! Add the balloon and I’m a happy girl. Enough said.
(Yes, I know I’m a kid!)
Of all the things that feel the same about every birthday I
have is the love I get from my family and friends. Now, I’m not talking about the ones that
really don’t matter, but rather the ones who are really important to me, the
ones who have gone through hell and back with me, looking for that needle in
the haystack for me. They remind me that
every year I’m hear, I get to spend another year with them and that every
breath I take allows me to relish them every single time.
So, really I still don’t know why 35 was insanely depressing
for me, and 36 isn’t. I honestly have
been trying to answer that these past couple of months. Things are still beyond my reach, but I'm reaching them. However, as I type this mundane blog of mine,
I just started thinking on all my past birthdays, and end of it all, it was
probably because I didn’t get a party last year. What?
You know how shallow I can be. :-P
Happy Birthday to me, and I do hope that I get many
more. Maybe I should go to that bakery again....lol!
