I feel like my birthday is the one day that exists solely to be a disappointment for me. And, if today had been a normal day, it would’ve been a decent/good one. But no, it was my birthday, and I’m going to bed early wanting to bawl my eyes out. I tried to forget that it was my birthday, and when I managed to sort of forget, those were the better points of my day. That and the points of the day when I was with my friends. I baked my own cake, but I forgot to buy myself candles.
I don’t even understand why I get like this on my birthday. Year after year. But I’m not supposed to go to bed crying, and I don’t even know why, so it must be my fault. Birthdays are something that everybody else gets to enjoy, and when my day comes up, I end up feeling miserable. I dread knowing that it’s coming up. It’s like I’m preparing myself to be disappointed, and I try not to have any expectations.
And no- the problem is not that I’m another year older. Age is just a number. I think it’s that when I think about my birthdays, all of the bad ones come to mind. I can only think of a few really good birthdays… and technically, only one of those was on the actual day. My fifth birthday was fun… had a party and everything, but on the actual day, I ran down the stairs and flew onto my dad’s lap and hurt him, and I was so upset that I hurt my daddy that I cried… and then my mom came in with one of those chocolate cupcakes with the white swirl on top with the creme filling that had a candle in it, and how can you not cheer up with one of those cupcakes?
I just thought of my fourth birthday. All that I know is that most of the day, my mom was getting the house ready for the party, and I kept asking her if I was four yet… and at some point, during the party, my mom turned to me and said, “Now you’re four.”
My sixth birthday party was the best, although it was not technically on my birthday. I had a slumber party, and we had “Miss Birthday America”. I was nervous and didn’t think I would win (but of course I won, it was my birthday). And then when “sharing” my crown, I poked my sister in the eye with it by accident. It’s on video. And then we made our own pizzas, and made our own ice cream, and watched “The Little Mermaid” and we all slept in sleeping bags on the living room floor.
On my seventh or eighth birthday (I’m thinking seventh, though I may be wrong), we went to Chuck E Cheese (just my family) and all I remember was that we had cake, but I was extremely upset that it was vanilla. And it tasted like it had been frozen and defrosted, you know… kinda watery. It was gross. I still remember it. Maybe that is why I so loathe store bought cake. I prefer Duncan Hines and Pillsbury.
On my ninth birthday, my mom bought a frozen cake and stuck a couple candles in it. At least that one was chocolate. I think she had choir rehearsal or something that night, so we really didn’t do anything. I remember being upset (probably mostly about the cake).
There was another birthday when a few friends came over (tenth?)… I don’t remember much of anything about that one, except a friend of mine gave me a stuffed white tiger that I loved.
The preteen years I usually ended up going bowling with my family, but then my brother would make fun of me so badly when I lost that i would cry. That ended that.
I don’t remember my thirteenth except that I got my first cd player.
Fourteenth and fifteenth I don’t remember… more bowling? I’m not sure.
Sixteenth- I had a party at Arirang, but it wasn’t a typical sweet sixteen. It was just a party at a hibachi place, and there were 20 seats and they weren’t all filled because people kept not being able to come. My dad was even running around the church the Wednesday before just asking people to come to my party. The party itself was fun… but on my actual birthday, my dad gave me flowers, but the rest of the day, my mom was all like “we already celebrated your birthday, now clean the house”.
Seventeenth- Baked my own cake, lit my own candles, and sang “Happy Birthday to Me” after my mom got mad that I waited until ten to have cake and went to bed.
Eighteenth- One of the best ones. Had some friends over, played Balderdash, ate pizza, threw m&ms down my sister’s shirt. Classic.
Nineteenth- Friends turned our usual “Coffeehouse” gathering into a “surprise party”. I know they meant well, but I was so upset that I was getting to coffeehouse late, that I was thinking “this had better be a surprise party, or I am going to be really annoyed.”
Twentieth- I can’t remember.
Twenty-first- Went to Madame Toussaud’s in the city and walked over thirty blocks to the Bloch store to buy pointe shoes (my parents didn’t want to pay another subway fare).
Twenty second- I can’t remember
Twenty third- I can’t remember
Twenty fourth- I can’t remember
(On one of the above that I don’t really remember, I had cake after dance class/rehearsal, and then I came home and had cake again).
Twenty fifth- Worst. Birthday. Ever. My best friend’s dog died. (And another, sort of funny memory was going out to dinner the day before… which tried to be a surprise party that I wasn’t surprised at, and my other best friend tried everybody’s drinks. We don’t let her do that anymore).
Twenty sixth- Went out for lunch, then had class.
Twenty seventh- Today. Yep.
Anywho, happy International Talk Like a Pirate Day!