Not to sound like a snotty bitch, but I turned 49 yesterday and getting older can go fuck itself. It’s stupid. And please don’t tell me it’s all in my head. It’s on my driver’s license, actually, which makes it pretty darn official. And it suuuuucks. But hey, happy birthday to me!
I had a fantastic day, even though my husband ate half of the two birthday cakes and two cupcakes I had. More than half, really. I can always go get more cake, but it tastes way better when someone gives it to you. The chocolate is richer and the embellishments look fancier, like the red sugar flower on one of them, which is unfortunately way too hard to be considered edible. I don’t want to crack a tooth here.
It’s the beginning of the last year of my life before I turn 50. The last year to get my shit together so I’m not sitting around feeling sorry for myself in a year, sobbing in the cake I have to get for myself because everyone’s too scared to be around me and my sour attitude. Or… I pull a full on Rocky 3 and come through in the end, despite the ever-annoying antagonist of self-doubt. Maybe with an inspirational beach speech á la (yo) Adrian, right before Rocky fights Clubber Lang.
Rocky: And if I lose?
Adrian: Then you lose. But at least you lose with no excuses, no fear. And I know you can live with that.
Rocky: How did you get so tough?
Adrian: I live with a fighter.
Sometimes I wish I had kept a journal and every single day of my life was chronicled in a sick amount of detail. Like a captain’s log. I may not have the guts to ever read it, but still. So I’m going to post something every day of year 49, whether it be dribble, or genius, or a quote from someone smarter or better at writing than me, or John Lennon lyrics or whatever. One year. And I’ll have it for-eh-vah ♥