Happy Birthday to Me! I didn’t realize my birthday fell on my blog day until I sat down to write my post. I’m a little slow on the uptake sometimes. Anyway, so hooray to me for managing to continue aging. Better than the alternative, I suppose.
This year is sort of a non-event for me. DB has to work. My mom is taking me to dinner although LS can’t understand why we’re not having a party at Chuck E. Cheese. I’ll pass, thanks. A Saturday shopping extravaganza with the Playfriends will be the highlight of this year. I didn’t ask for anything and if someone bugged me for ideas, I couldn’t help them. I’m sort of in “just another day” mode.
I guess I’m not too excited because I’m creeping towards a new decade. Not yet, but next year I’ll be 30. (I hear you all laughing, but I'm serious!) I really don’t mind being in my thirties so much as no longer being in my twenties. It isn’t as though I haven’t walked and talked like a 35 year old since I was in kindergarten. I guess it’s just the label. For a while you’re in your early twenties. Then mid twenties. Then late twenties. I guess I should be excited – most women are 29 for decades. It must be the greatest year of your life, right? I keep examining wrinkles in the mirror and watching for gray hairs. My mom's hair started turning gray right around 30. And she started needing reading glasses. And her memory started to slip. Her friends threw her a wake for her 30th birthday. Sweet, huh?
How could I possibly be as old as I remember my mom being??
I hear the sex gets better. Life is supposed to be better – less soul searching and whatnot. I’ve never been much for that anyway. You’re supposed to settle down into life. I don’t know. Aside from marriage, I’m pretty settled. I’m on my second house, almost 10 years with my company, heavily degreed...put a ring on my hand and a baby in my lap and you can’t get much more settled.
Maybe I just feel like I’ve squandered my twenties. I've never done any of the crazy, irresponsible things young people are supposed to do. I haven't gone through jobs and boyfriends like tissue. I never had a junky studio apartment with milk crate furniture. I hardly go out to clubs or bars and if I do, I'm the last one on the dance floor and the first to volunteer as designated driver. I have mortgages and bills and responsibilities. I’ve lived the life of a thirty something the whole time and now, if I try to move backwards, I’ll be one of those pathetic people who dress way too young for their age and use teen slang inappropriately. I’m moving up to the women’s section of the department store, looking back at the Misses and Teens area with longing. Purple hair and plaid Converse sneakers are no longer acceptable for me. Bean bag chairs are not comfortable or appropriate furniture.
I'm an adult. I can't deny it any longer.
What have you been in denial about lately?
Circle of Five:
1 novella pending with Nocturne Bites
2 short stories and 4 short features with the Trues