Thursday, 4 June 2015

Birthdays.



It's that time of the year again...no it's not time to pay the car rego or the house insurance or get my tits squeezed or make some silly resolution about eating less or exercising more, well some actually, nope it's time to break out the candles and the bubbles and sing badly cos it's my birthday! Yippee!!

Nope I am not being sarcastic. I love birthdays! Mine and other people's. Birthdays are just some much fucking better than the alternative.

Dead Dad Day is Jan 13. I am sure that the main reason I remember this is because it was also my wedding anniversary, even though I was by then single. More than a little ironic I know. So if there is no birthday, then there is a Dead Day and there is not a great deal of joy involved in them.

I reckon my worst birthday was when I turned 25 cos like all youngsters, I thought this was the beginning of the end. I can remember feeling really bloody old - a quarter of a century! I was an old married woman, a mother and a teacher and I figured my best days were behind me. I got all a little miserable and then of course, given that I wasn't dead, I moved on.

Now the number just doesn't matter. Sure it could give me the shits that I am becoming crinkled and round and I can't run a marathon - well never could ho hum. And perhaps I could get grumpy about how the government now finds it necessary to post me little sticks to shit on and bag up and post back, and they pay for tellie advertising to make sure that I am aware that I am becoming a financial liability because of my now propensity of developing every fucking disease or ailment except perhaps pregnancy. Yeh if the government had it's way it would call your 50s the decade of liability, and god only knows what happens in your 60s. If I am lucky I will be around long enough to find out and whinge about that too.

Yeh I could lose sleep over it, but that won't turn the clock back and I wouldn't want to even if I could.

So cut me another good thick slab of carbs and sing heartily. My day can last a day or a week or maybe even a month, if I am truly spoilt, or if older folk forget cos they have stuck their shit stick up their noses and now think June is a tomato. This bit of forgetfulness is a great way to extend a birthday, maybe indefinitely, I just need to work out how to co-ordinate all that remembering or forgetting.

Birthdays - they are so much better than the alternative.