August 22nd, 2011
My dad and I. Do you see the look of terror disguised as happy-go-lucky in our eyes? It’s because big celebrations frighten us. I’m pretty sure it was because my mom was German.
Just thinking how I’m going to be…older than I am now for my upcoming birthday, and how I never properly celebrated such things. I’ve never been a GO BIG birthday party person, or expected to do TONS OF STUFF on my special day, and I think it’s because I am the daughter of a German. My mom was pretty unimpressed by celebrations (unless they were religious) and didn’t tend to enthuse much about anything (unless it was God and His angels).
I remember my mom’s 50th birthday party, when my aunt gifted her with $100-an-ounce Joy perfume, and my mom was all “Thanks. Smells good. What’s next? Oh my Law! Is that a stuffed St. Francis holding a Happy 50th puffy heart?”
So, celebration apathy runs in my genes a little.
I mean, I do like to spend the day with my loved ones. Go to dinner with my husband. See a show. It’s just that the BIG stuff never made it with me, and I find it foreign when people like to really do it up for birthdays. Speaking of which, I felt the same for my bachelorette party. I just wanted to hang out with my pals, maybe dive bar it up, then grab a bite; much to the chagrin of my best friend who suggested Vegas, confetti, and Chippendale’s (We met in the middle. I stayed in San Diego wearing a miniskirt on top of a piano sipping out of plastic penises while everyone sang “Going to the Chapel.”)
I think it’s OK, right? To not need the hullabaloo? And I think it’s OK to want it too. That said…I have to tell you about my friend.
She’s the BIG person. Likes to celebrate her birthday all month, that kind of thing. For instance, Day One of her BIRTHDAY MONTH, we went to a group breakfast. Day Two we met at a restaurant for dinner. Day Three we spent 12 hours at a spa. Day Four we flew to Acapulco. You know. And her birthday was on the 22nd, so you can imagine.
Now, it’s her husband’s birthday month coming up, and we’re (by “we” I mean the “whole neighborhood”) going to Palm Springs for three days of golf, spa, and cheese. Of course, his “real” birthday is in the middle of the month, so after Palm Springs, we’ll probably all head to the Eiffel Tower to blow out his candles.
And I like that. How people see fit to celebrate and DO.
So to the point of this post:
My birthday is in November.