So, today was my half-birthday.
Every year I have the intention to make my half birthday a special day. Why? My actual birthday is on Christmas, and while that was magical as a child, it’s not so much now. Some people reading this would say, so what? Grow up. Birthdays are not a big deal. But the thing is– I think they are. I think the day that you were born is a big deal. I think one day in the whole year to be about me and some planned pampering is something I should be able to make happen. Don’t worry, I’m not pushing a narcissistic agenda here–I’m not saying other people have to make a big deal about it every year. (Once in a while would be cool, though. And if I’m in a relationship, um, yeah, these lowered expectations go out the window and he better be planning some pampering.) But this day-for-me thing just isn’t going to happen on Christmas, and it shouldn’t. But knowing that doesn’t necessarily improve the day for me. So… blahdiblahblahblah, I tell myself that I get to pick a day, any day, and it’s MINE. There will be a massage, or a lunch out, or…. I’ve tried December 27, December 29… something always comes up to ruin my day for me. So, the half birthday becomes the next plan.
Most years, I don’t even remember to notice my half birthday. I mean, this isn’t exactly a traditional event on anyone’s horizon. But, this year, I did remember! Halfway through the day. So, on my way home, I treated myself to two lovely cupcakes which I brought home with me. And happily ate them both.
And as I was thinking about these thwarted birthday plans, I realized that the problem is the plan. I hate planning. I’m a horrible planner. I hate delayed gratification; I don’t know why anyone would want to plan something for 5 years from now; and, while I understand I could definitely manage my time and money better, I don’t know if my failure is due to lack of plans. I think, actually, that you can plan all you want, but life happens. I mean, those legendary fun nights out are always the ones where nothing was planned– it just all happened.
So– all these jumbled, crumb covered, sugary buttercream cupcake inhaling thoughts of failed planning as I stuffed my face bring me back to this feeling that I might be better off celebrating and pampering in small ways throughout the year. Not keeping my head down and pushing through until… my vacation, or the weekend, or next summer, or when I lose 20 pounds, or when I’ve got a job that doesn’t make me want to bash heads in. Sure, plans are good, plans should be made, plans will be made–after all, I also realistically know that if one doesn’t plan things, not much will get done. But these birthday plans that I hinge so heavily on a specific date? Probably time to let them go. Ehhhh, maybe in a few years. Or maybe, on Monday, when I go back to work, I will put in for a day off next June 25 and plan a day of half birthday pampering.