Love that song, although I don’t usually cry on my birthday, nor do I want to.
If I cried, it would be because my birthday comes right after Christmas and everyone I know is either broke or satiated with holiday parties. Which means I’m screwed.
I remember many birthdays where I received one present for my birthday and Christmas. I was always asked if that were okay – like what kind of fool would ask that question? Of course it’s not okay. What was I going to say though – to my lovely parents – like get me two damned presents like you do the older child that was found under a cabbage and lives in this house too?
Now if I were going to cry, it would be because each birthday brings me closer to the end. I’m already at an age where if I croaked, they could still say “At least she had a good life.” Cue snort. Each year adds another ache, a little more knee pain, less interest in hiking up Mt. Everest. I don’t even have a career plan anymore. It’s too late to go back to school to be a doctor or a lawyer. Frankly I don’t even have any interest in working. I am content to sit in my home, counting the piddly pension money and stretching it out the whole month.
If I were going to cry on my birthday, it would be because I can no longer flirt with the opposite sex and get anything out of it except a weird look. I’m still gorgeous, but let’s just say there aren’t many takers and even if there were, they have parts of them gone missing that would depress me. So I might cry because of that but probably not.
I do celebrate the old birthday though. I usually do this by shopping. The only prerequisite is that there be someone to stop me because everything goes on sale in January and I have been known to buy multiple items in a state of poor me get something.
My last birthday put me over the threshold for social security, which I think should be changed to at least 55 if not 50. We could get out of the work force and let those college kids have a shot at running the country. Anyway, I get my check now, every month on the second Wednesday in the month. I feel like a real person. I am so grateful that I’ve lived long enough to get paid by the government rather than the other way around.
And so I have six more months to figure out what to get myself for my next birthday. I think it will be a slam dunk hunk of wood known as a spinning wheel from way across the world. With lots of fluff …………..