Today is my day, February 6th-my birthday. As a little girl, I used to wake up with butterflies in my stomach, excited to see what the day would bring. My parents would wake me with kisses and hugs and just about as much excitement as the birthday girl herself. I’d get dressed in an extra special outfit, pack up my birthday treats for my class (why did the birthday person provide their own treats?) and head to school. Birthdays were the best. Isn’t it funny how you never “felt” the difference in a day when it was someone else’s, but when it was yours-it felt like a holiday? That’s a pretty special thing. The double digits seemed so very old and sixteen would never come, let alone twenty one. And then I grew up, or so I thought.
The day I turned twenty one, I cried. All I could think about was the Ladytron song, Seventeen.
“They only want you when you’re seventeen
When you’re twenty-one, you’re no fun”
And then I cried some more. I was washed up, old, and undesirable. I didn’t want to go the bars to celebrate, I was there the night before.
Seven years later I awoke in a bed, in a hotel room, and it wasn’t the Four Seasons. I can’t say there are butterflies, as I know what the day will bring, but there are definitely no tears. Those years gifted me something invaluable, a sense of reality. Gone are the days when the world revolved around me and I wasted time pouting about not being seventeen (narcissism at its finest). I realize that I have to work for those things my heart desires, exercise to maintain my figure, and do things that aren’t always fun to remain employed. I have a sense of responsibility, a savings account, and a desire to be something other than an heiress. It was Paris, now it’s Kim, Khloe, and Kourtney. To all the young girls, there’s more to life than vacations, parties, and the Kardashians -a lot more.
Tonight my toast is to another another year wiser, another year happier, and another year healthier. Bring on the birthday bubbles!