|Unhappy birthday to me...|
My birthday lands towards the arse end of the year, and I always seem to add a year onto my age from new years day. So I'm already making myself almost a year older before I need to. Maybe it's just because that's the next age I've got coming up or maybe it's to get the 'wow' reaction that I sometimes (always) get when I'm asked my age. I've always looked, and definitely act (irresponsibly), younger for whatever age I've been. It's in my genes. My mum would get on the bus for a half fare when she was 25 years old.
I've always disliked my birthday. As a kid I liked the presents and the cake but it signified, not just the end of summer, but the end of summer holidays and going back to school. Then there were the occasions where I would try and make a big deal of it but something would go shamefully wrong. Like the time a friend got hideously drunk and tried to punch me. The time I got hideously drunk and turned up staggeringly late (and staggering) to my birthday dinner. The other times where I've tried to arrange something but some of my invited have rinsed themselves out and done themselves in after the August bank holiday. Then realising that some of the people I considered to be my friends were actually my friend's friends and not mine. Or the times that I simply didn't even have anyone to round up to celebrate with because I'd moved town/city.
The main reason I hate my birthday is that it signifies another year that I haven't achieved any of the things I ought to have by (insert appropriate age). But then I never really have been the most conventional of people so why should this surprise me.
Nowadays I don't really give my birthday any legs. I'll go into deny and avoid mode. The days have gone where I group people together to go drinking as a celebration of another year of me. Besides, drinking has since become such a huge source of pain for me it is no longer a way for me to celebrate. When I do drink it's actually by 'accident'.
The most I'll do for my birthday is that I will go out for dinner with my boyfriend's family. Which is usually perfectly lovely providing his mother keeps her phone/camera out of my face. She is one of those creatures who thinks that I (and everyone she knows) enjoys having a stream of photographs taken of them and instantly loaded to Facebook for her friends to make comments on.
My boyfriend will spoil me which is obviously lovely but I can't even enjoy that properly like a sane person because I begin worrying about his birthday being next and that I won't know what to do.
Age has since become a factor and wish to rewind the years on my personal and biological clock and happily and ignorantly live in a time warp where all my ambitions and better opportunities still lie ahead of me.
Do you hate your birthday? Or even your age for that matter?
Thanks squirrels x
photo credit: drinksmachine via photopin cc