Tomorrow is my birthday. It’s the first birthday I’ve ever had that involved a number I simply could not bring myself to say out loud. Oh, I’ve had NO problem saying the number when someone ELSE reached it. For example, when my cousin, Julie, hit that magic number a LONG time before me, I remember telling her “Happy Birthday. You’re 50!” and then rolling on the floor with laughter. I laughed so hard I had tears in my eyes. I had no problem whatsoever saying that number at that time.
But now that I’M facing down that number, well…. I frankly don’t see the humor in it. I mean what the heck is so funny about being a half a century year old? What kind of a jerk would find that funny?
I’ve been dreading this all year. I’ll actually be happy to get there and get it over with.
I know, I know. Many of you have faced it before me. And you’re still around to talk about it. Good for you. But this is me I’m talking about here. And I’m not used to that big, scary number. So have some compassion will ya?
They say 50 (gulp, I SAID it!) is the new 30. Well, considering I still act like I’m 12, that’s small comfort.
I’ll post again in the next few days. If I can remember . And if I can still get out of the bed. You young whipper snapper, you!