Milestone Birthdays

Warning: This will be a woe-is-me post.

There are certain milestone birthdays we all have. One, 13 (you know.. because you’re now a TEEN), 21 (bring on the booze legally now!), 25 (insurance rates go down, you’re now a quarter of a century), 30, 40, etc.

I don’t remember my 13th birthday. Chances are it was nothing special. None of my birthdays were that spectacular growing up. Boo hoo.

Twenty-one, I got so wasted due to my then-boyfriend feeding me shot after shot after shot of Jack Daniel’s that to this day I sport a scar on my forehead and a chipped tooth as everlasting souvenirs. You can say I remember that birthday for sure.

Twenty-five, I vaguely recall that my insurance went down.

Thirty… Yeah what a day. I had told my husband of the time, Scott, that I had never had a birthday party in my life. That I wanted a surprise birthday party for my 30th birthday. I told him this on my 29th birthday. This gave the man a YEAR to plan. My birthday came and went. Despite numerous reminders throughout the year, there was no party. There was no cake. There wasn’t even a freaking present!!! I remember telling Gary this story and he was so sad that this happened to me. Gary, the man with no compassion for other people, actually felt sorry for me.

Well, folks, Monday is my 40th birthday. Let me digress… here is where you send me emails, post comments, etc. exclaiming that you simply CANNOT believe that I am 40. That I look not a day older than, oh I don’t know… 32. Yeah, not a day older than 32. Anyhoooo… Monday. My 40th. Not a damn thing to do. I won’t get a present. I stupidly told Gary that I knew he would be deployed and not to worry. OF COURSE HE SHOULD DO SOMETHING! What was I thinking?! I need that now more than if he were here. I thought the other day that it would be awesome if he had somehow managed to plan something for me before he left. Like arranged with Vicky to do something on that day. But I know he didn’t. I put that hope right out of my mind. I don’t want to set myself up for a sure let down. I thought about treating myself to a day at the spa – hair coloring (not that I have grey mind you.. not one single strand) and a pedicure. But then I realized finances just will not allow this. I can’t really eat cake because of the surgery. I keep trying to think of something fun to do. I came up with a list of things that would mark my 40th in a very auspicious way. For various reasons, none seem practical. Below is the list of the plans, followed by the obvious reason these will not work (ORTWNW).

PLAN A: Have earth shattering sex with two 20 year olds (2 + 20 = 40).
ORTWNW: Surely you can figure this one out.

PLAN B: Begin building an ark (rain, 40days/40 nights).
ORTWNW: I can barely hang a picture on the wall. I sure as heck can’t build an ark.
PLAN C: Go without sex for 40 days and 40 nights, a la Josh Hartnett in the movie of the same name.
ORTWNW: This plan actually WILL work.. and then some. Gary’s gone for 15 – 18 months.

PLAN D: Buy some sensible shoes. At 40 shouldn’t I have sensible shoes?
ORTWNW: Actually, I might have stumbled on something here. SHOPPING. Retail therapy. Hmmmm

So here is where I end this post. I need to go cry a bit more about my sure to be lousy birthday.