Well, here I am on the day after, once an hourglass figure, now a 40 lbs. overweight blob. Even my feet have grown a size. Seems I was right, it’s the beginning of decay for sure! “I finally got my mind together, now my body is falling apart“. Completely unemployable, every bone creaking, nothing left to say.
I’ve been lobbying for a very long time, because I’m paranoid like that, to prevent any kinds of large gatherings for the occasion; loudly sworn off cooking and cleaning, surprise crowds behind my couch, wakeup calls etc. I don’t like the attention, the buzz of more than 6 people in the same room, I can’t coordinate fancy cooking, it’s a waste of money and energy since I’m not enjoying it, and it’s my day, right? Not an obligation?
Not quite so in Denmark. It is traditional for the birthday girl’s love for friends and family (including those of her male partner’s on his birthday) to be measured in the amount of time and money she spends on cleaning and cooking for them. If you refuse, you are at worst a nasty, antisocial little misfit, at best you can get away with “weird”. But certainly not normal or completely acceptable. Some send you gifts in advance, because then you are honorbound by duty to arrange something for them. Sorry, I just don’t get it.
Luckily my own family has sort of semi-adapted to my anti-traditional convictions by now and don’t make much fuss, but my anxiety still lurks more often than they deserve. (Incidentally I also got married in secret to avoid bachelorette parties and suchlike strange traditions. I don’t think anybody would have actually arranged one, but one can never be too certain)
I enjoy birthdays when they are just quiet regular days. I’ll have cake, but that’s a regular preference too, no need to save cakes for a special occasion, is there?
ANYWAY, I think I can safely breathe again and say that was it and nobody had to die. I ended up not making a cake, maybe another day. My mum dropped by with a GORGEOUS cardigan that she knit me and we had homemade pizza with champagne.
My Yahoo mail has a banner ad today saying: “Would you like to date older women in your area?” Showing a photo of a busty, partyclad blonde 30 years of age tops. Oy.