I used to roll my eyes whenever I heard someone say “Thirty is the new 20,” but now that I think about it, I ‘m pretty sure they may have been onto something.
Yes, it’s my birthday. Today I am a whopping 30 years old. For some reason, I had this feeling like I’d be in my twenties forever.
The decade went by really quick. In fact, it’s kind of scary to think that in another short decade I’ll be 40. Not to offend any of my fantastic and hip friends that have crossed that bridge, but it’s kind of a depressing thought.
Not as depressing though, as when my hubby completely forgot that it was my birthday this morning. Hello? It’s a major birthday! Not just that, but there was a ginormous present bag on the kitchen table that my mom had given my last night that proclaimed (in large neon letters) “HAPPY BIRTHDAY.” That and there was leftover birthday cake in the fridge which he had to physically move to get to the half-and-half for his coffee.
In his defense, we have a lot going on right now and he was up pretty early grinding away at tasks that needed to get done before the week’s up, but still…
In fact, when he called me as I was taking the stairs up to my office space to finally wish me a happy birthday, I was ready to let my hurt feelings go and start feeling festive. But then he did the unthinkable. He wished me a happy birthday and then proceeded to bitch at me that he was so busy this morning doing stuff that I shouldn’t even have hurt feelings and turned it around on me. Like I should feel shitty for feeling shitty.
Granted, by the time this column goes to print, I’m totally sure that he’ll have made up for being a royal jerk-off and I’ll feel really bad that I roasted him in print. But then again, maybe not.
The bottom line isn’t so much that the hubby pulled a Homer, but that I’m probably being overly sensitive and suffering the proverbial “Birthday Meltdown.”
Just the other day, Jessica (Maui Time’s Calendar Editor) and I were talking about said meltdowns. She had one at her B.D. party just a few weeks ago. Then again, massive amounts of alcohol and a baby kitten were involved which makes it really understandable.
Me on the other hand? I’m just pissed off about entering another decade and highly sensitive about it. Maybe it stems from the fact that birthdays were always a really big thing in my household and were always super-duper fun. It’s kind of hard to beat one of Mom’s birthday bashes.
I could go on and moan and groan like the crabby old woman I’ve become; but alas, my aching arthritic fingers are tired of pecking at the keyboard.
Someone get me a shot of Metamucil and some gray-coverage dye. It’s time to party in here.
Starr Begley got really nice flowers from her hubby not 15 minuts after bashing him and feels sheepish. MTW