(no subject)
Aug. 23rd, 2009 03:42 pmSo. I'm 31 today. This does not mean any of the following things have stopped happening:
1. Getting carded for alcohol. Actually, it might be more accurate to say it's uneven; I don't know if there's a pattern to when I do and when I don't (besides when I know I'm personally recognized). A hassle, I suppose, but I shouldn't complain.
2. My mother asking me what I want for my birthday, as though I had anywhere to put any more crap. Basically, at this point, if I can't eat it, drink it, or use it up in the shower, it's better to skip it. There's almost nothing I need, not actually that many things I seriously want (as opposed to idly want), and of those things, some are not objects that can be bought as surprises (it's nearly impossible for me to know if clothes will fit without trying them on, for instance).
3. Slowly, but (it seems) steadily gaining weight. Not that getting older would cause that to stop, of course. Husband is lobbying for us getting a Wii Fit and he's probably right. (I suppose I could also have worse things to bitch about than having gained ~30 lbs over the past 9 years -- for example, unlike a growing percent of the population, I have a good job and no debt -- but it's a trend that needs reversing. If you're wondering why I'm counting from 9 specifically, it's because that's when I moved back into this house.)
4. People at work doing birthday things despite this not being a round-number birthday (30, 40...), which I probably escaped last year by dint of being in Disneyland at the time. Still, it could be worse; some people have gotten big surprise parties and things, which I hate, and my wishes in this matter have been respected. This year all we had was a cake and three cards for three of us who have our birthdays within a week of one another.
So yeah. Whee. I stopped caring very much about my birthdays somewhere in my early 20s. It's nice to have an excuse to go out to dinner or something, but meh. Maybe I'll care about 40.
1. Getting carded for alcohol. Actually, it might be more accurate to say it's uneven; I don't know if there's a pattern to when I do and when I don't (besides when I know I'm personally recognized). A hassle, I suppose, but I shouldn't complain.
2. My mother asking me what I want for my birthday, as though I had anywhere to put any more crap. Basically, at this point, if I can't eat it, drink it, or use it up in the shower, it's better to skip it. There's almost nothing I need, not actually that many things I seriously want (as opposed to idly want), and of those things, some are not objects that can be bought as surprises (it's nearly impossible for me to know if clothes will fit without trying them on, for instance).
3. Slowly, but (it seems) steadily gaining weight. Not that getting older would cause that to stop, of course. Husband is lobbying for us getting a Wii Fit and he's probably right. (I suppose I could also have worse things to bitch about than having gained ~30 lbs over the past 9 years -- for example, unlike a growing percent of the population, I have a good job and no debt -- but it's a trend that needs reversing. If you're wondering why I'm counting from 9 specifically, it's because that's when I moved back into this house.)
3b. She says, eating her red velvet birthday cupcake. *eyeroll*
4. People at work doing birthday things despite this not being a round-number birthday (30, 40...), which I probably escaped last year by dint of being in Disneyland at the time. Still, it could be worse; some people have gotten big surprise parties and things, which I hate, and my wishes in this matter have been respected. This year all we had was a cake and three cards for three of us who have our birthdays within a week of one another.
So yeah. Whee. I stopped caring very much about my birthdays somewhere in my early 20s. It's nice to have an excuse to go out to dinner or something, but meh. Maybe I'll care about 40.