My birthday is in three days.
((wince))
Ever since my 30th birthday, back in two-thousand and something or other, I’ve had a sort of distant, disinterested relationship with the celebration of my birth. Honestly, there are a few people who chose to ruin the day versus letting it pass and ruining the following day, so after a few slights, I stopped looking forward to them.
They haven’t all been bad though.
And the last year, despite some rough spots, was pretty good overall, and even though the number associated with this year’s birthday is a strange number to admit to (like, I can’t really be this old, right?!), I’ve realized a few things that really only come with age.
- I don’t care if everyone likes me.
- It used to bother me if I learned there was someone who didn’t like me. Why? Because I’m a sweet princess, and what’s not to like? 😉 Then it was my goal to make them like me. That was then. This is now. There’s a woman at work, who thankfully, I don’t see very often. She likes to be nice to my face and then talk a whole lotta nonsense behind my back. And I’m not her only target. She’s about 50, and I find this kind of behavior juvenile. I say good morning when I see her, half the time she ignores me. Fine. Whatever. I’m not going to stop being nice because she’s clearly petty and jealous. Before I would have gone out of my way to win her favor, and now, I’ve realized some people just don’t deserve that kind of attention. It’s a waste of my time, which is precious the older I get, and the refreshing thing is, it really doesn’t bother me. What an odd thing to discover.
- I’m comfortable in my own skin.
- While I feel I have a few pounds to shave off – I mean, almost everyone I know feels this way – I’m comfortable with who I am. I’m 6′ tall, and I’m currently about 170 lbs. Even when I was working out last year fairly consistently, the scale didn’t change. Of course the distribution did, but I realized, like my age, it’s just a number. I’ll never get back to my high school volleyball playing days, and I’ve accepted that. Am I still holding on to that one pair of pants I’m striving to fit back into? Uh, yeah. Everyone woman I know has that pair, but I think we’re all hanging on to them out of some twisted sense of nostalgia.
- I let my geek flag fly.
- I don’t think I was ever embarrassed to admit the nerdy or geeky things I liked as a kid (kids are fairly shameless, after all), but as with the natural progression from child to teen, the desire to fit in with the people whose opinions wouldn’t matter the moment we took that first step in the graduation processional seemed rather important in those early days. Then geek became cool, a sort of badge of honor, and joining a fandom became an open door to making the kind of friends who not only understand you, but are the kind of friends you make for life. Star Wars aside, saying you play video games or want to cosplay will draw out the kind of people you want to know. Well, that is, if that’s your cup of tea. I proudly admit to writing fan fiction and getting a geek tattoo with The Sis, and because I’m comfortable in my own skin and I don’t care what people think, I’m not embarrassed to admit to much anymore.
- I’m happy on my own.
- I always thought, and intended, to get married and have a family. It’s what you’re “supposed” to do. But I was never fond of the whole dating thing. And the older I got, the less inclined I was to follow in such a tradition. Then, when I was about thirty, the man I was dating at the time, yes, one in the same who ruined my birthday, and I had a pregnancy scare. As the title of my blog suggests, I have a terrible memory, but I remember that moment clearly, as if it happened last week. 😉 It was an eye-opening experience, to say the least. I was turned
off to the whole relationship idea for years after; he was not a nice human being. And then I got to a point where I had built a life I enjoyed, and knew it would take a special kind of person for me to want to make room for them, and as of this post, I have yet to meet such a one. (Except you, Hiddles. I’d give up…hmm…well, we’ll have to talk about it. ;P) Besides, two of my beloved icons, Elizabeth I and Jane Austen, never married. Everyone still wants to set me up, but it’s nice that the stigma of the “spinster” has gone out the window and people accept me for the happy single I am.
- I always thought, and intended, to get married and have a family. It’s what you’re “supposed” to do. But I was never fond of the whole dating thing. And the older I got, the less inclined I was to follow in such a tradition. Then, when I was about thirty, the man I was dating at the time, yes, one in the same who ruined my birthday, and I had a pregnancy scare. As the title of my blog suggests, I have a terrible memory, but I remember that moment clearly, as if it happened last week. 😉 It was an eye-opening experience, to say the least. I was turned
So what does all this rambling mean?
Getting older has its benefits, and it’s a gift not afforded to everyone.
So, I’m not not looking forward to my birthday this year, in fact, I think I’ll do my best to embrace it. There’s a lot to look forward to because I have BIG plans this year!
Ramble over.
xx, Rach
p.s. Thanks for being along for the journey!