Birthday reflections! Possibly the most boring thing I’ve ever written.

My birthday of 2012 is totally doneski. I’m 29 years old. It is my last year of my twenties. My sober husband made it spectacular (no Notebook style surprises – just his sincere company is enough for me), his parents called me, and my living extended family members figured it out by this evening and sent me texts. I’m also lucky enough to have very thoughtful friends who wished me well and/or got me hilarious gag gifts. One being a fart sounds key chain that completely frazzled my chihuahua. I didn’t even have any sort of break down when I thought of my mom several times.

Hey, I don’t know who my dad is, so I was totally entertained to realize that the lyrics of Papa Was a Rolling Stone have my birthdate in them! Look it up! So funny to me.

I chose this time to be birthday gras, similar to mardi gras. Anniversaire gras didn’t sound catchy enough, so birthday fat will have to do. I ate everything in sight. On any particular whim, I got what I wanted. I didn’t have a “nice” dinner per se, because I have the terrible misfortune of living near Virginia Tech. Those with the inability to find real hobbies and interests flocked to this area and I was afraid to venture out into the crowds. Anyone who knows me knows I hate everything and yuppie Miller Lite chugging Hokies get extra special eye rolls.

So yeah, pizza, cupcakes, Reese’s pumpkins, chips, dip, ice cream – all of that and more. I felt like I was supposed to feel guilty but I didn’t. I rationalized it thusly: Thanksgiving, Christmas, friends’ special occasions, any of this happens but not with the same personal symbolism that a birthday does. So fuck it, let’s eat! I probably put on 3 pounds. I’m looking forward to having oatmeal and veggies tomorrow. Maybe all the feasting will get me through til Thanksgiving and I won’t be dying for a stupid cheat day.

My husband did get me more than his company. We went shopping and I picked out a few clothes items I can wear for fall/winter, a 3DS game, and a few random must haves. 

Shopping feels weird lately. Especially since I can fit into old clothes, I feel like I have plenty of things and don’t need more. Sure, there were tons of precious items I wanted but I want to live my life minimally and not be constantly consuming excess shit.

I want to get rid of my too big jeans as soon as possible! They’re decent brands and gently worn, so ideally I’d like to give them away to someone I know scott free but I don’t know anyone who would be my size! Goodwill is probably going to get them. I do not need them hanging around to ever think of them as options again.

I’m constantly trying to find a balance between what I love to wear most… Clothes that make me look like a ten year old boy or some inner desire to want to look mature and sophisticated, like a sassy broad approaching 30.

I debated getting a tattoo for my birthday. I wanted a portrait of Charles Darwin in a neotraditional (hate that word. hate anything neo, actually) fashion with him looking like a sir. I couldn’t justify the cost! I was rationalizing it as “Well, I really do get sick of getting stared at with my existing tattoos, but if I already have a huge Leatherface and an even bigger japanese severed head, why not just get more if I want them?”.  In the end, I decided I’d rather have tangible gifts, not just ones I could wear. Plus tattoos hurt.

The tattoo will be on the backburner for awhile and I’ll probably never get it, and then neo trad Charles Darwin tattoos will become all the rage, just like when I wanted an owl years ago or a Mucha tattoo and then on pinterest, owls and Mucha began to dominate the tattoos/art categories, and I was so fucking thrilled I never got them.

Before Ed Hardy sold his soul for trillions of dollars (do I blame him? NO!!!!!!!!) to have his designs plastered on everything in the galaxy, mid 2000s, he was a respected guy. Huge in the traditional tattooing world. So once upon a time, I chose an Ed Hardy geisha for one of my feet.

Do you know what it feels like to have that tattoo and then go into Macy’s and see the same exact Geisha on a huge cardboard standee in the perfume section?  Well that exact thing happened to me years later. Embarrassing. PS I bought the perfume.

Finally, I’d like to share about what a softie I become when I have a couple days off work. I’m so nice when I don’t have to deal with strangers all day long. It hit me when I was grocery shopping and this girl saw the pepperonis and said, “OMIGOD THEY HAVE MINIS!” to her friend in the most valley girl accent I’ve ever heard since Clueless.

Properly rested from my customer service job, I thought “aw hah mini pepperonis are pretty cute”. If I had just gotten off work, I know I would have thought something unreasonably bitchy like “you fucking stupid cunt, mini pepperonis are all it takes to impress you? fuck you, you probably go to pizza hut and request mini pepperonis and piss everyone off!”.

I saw an episode of Undercover Boss where this guy had worked for Yankee Candle for two years. While training the undercover CEO, he confessed that he sometimes wanted to punch 8 year olds. The CEO took this very seriously and suggested they get him help and find him a position where he could be happy. I thought it was wonderfully refreshing!

Dangit. I hoped writing would make me feel sleepy but it hasn’t. I think my diet has me all crazy. Sluggish one minute, energetic the next, gotta poop, no I don’t, I’m sooo full, I think I could eat one more chip, yeah, I do gotta poop. Good riddance, birthday gras!






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