It's your birthday, it's your birthday.

Well, well, well. What'd ya know. It is birthday week! Self woke up Monday morning and began planning her week. "What to do, what to do"? I was thinking mani & pedi, for sure. But the whole mani-pedi has become less of a birthday treat and more of a necessity these days. Not that I don't enjoy the whole, "so pritty, like chilleader" thing. And actually, at my last pedi, the ladies gave me a little bottle with a secret green potent mysterious liquid inside. They told me, "You put everywhere it hurt, it make it more better". They cautioned me to only use "very little", so strong, dangerous for you, mama. Unfortunately, that was after I'd quickly "blessed" myself with the stuff all over my body when she turned to buy some veggies from the little guy that walked in hauling produce. I figured, like most Americans, "If a little makes it more better, hell, who just wants more better"? I mean how do you quantify that? I knew what I wanted, I wanted it to be, "All fixed, all better". That was sometime prior to them laying me flat out on a table wanting to show me what my eyebrows would look like if I agreed to permanent makeup. Not wanting to offend and somewhat looking forward to lying down and having someone fawn all over me, I agreed. However, once I heard a razor blade gently re-shaping my brow, I got scared. "Who were these people and what had I been lead into"? It was that damn green liquid, must contain some sort of hallucinogenic. So, yea, I needed to stay away from the pedi shop, at least until my eyebrows grew back. Not that this birthday was a milestone or anything AND not that if this year were to be a milestone, that anyone outside of the birth parents and a few bro's and sissy's that can still add and subtract would know. No, I am a low key sort of person and you'd have to water board me to get either my weight or my real age stated out loud. And since both are in the gasping range, yea, No.
Birthday's coming and going are a bit like weight; If you lose a couple of pounds you get all happy and when your birthday approaches you start to get happy too. You start to sing that little, "It's my birthday, it's my birthday" song in your head, just to get geared up. I typically start that song at the beginning of the birthday month, but each to his or her own. But then your birthday comes and goes and you wake up the morning after- typically a little fuzzy (after all it was your birthday) you briefly wonder about the half brow you are now sporting and you go to get dressed and feeling every bit of your new age, you realize that you didn't just gain a birthday, you gained every one of those six pounds that you'd starved yourself over leading up to the big day- BACK- again. Crap on a stick. Happy freaking birthday.