Learning to Love My Birthday
It has taken some years.
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I’ve never liked celebrating my birthday.
I’m not the type to announce that my birthday week has arrived.
Or birthday month.
Or God forbid, be one of those who have a birthday season. You know the types. The ones who have decided astrology dictates their entire personality so when it’s their time of the year they make it all about themselves.
Note: I’m an Aquarius.
I’m also not the type to expect others to plan something for me, as the most planning I do for myself is deciding last minute what type of takeout to order to go with my wine.
I’m not great at receiving gifts either.
It’s not that I don’t enjoy getting things, but I always respond with one or all of the following:
You shouldn’t have.
I can’t accept this.
Why did you spend this money on me simply because I survived another year on this planet?
When two good friends gifted me with the perfect gift, a wine fridge, I asked them if they could still return it, as it was far too expensive.
