Happy Belated Birthday to Me

I’ve been busy, but yesterday I noticed this post by Mr. Random, patting himself on the back for surviving yet another birthday.

I thought that peculiar, because as luck would have it, last week it was my birthday too. I only think it peculiar, because I share some sort of affinity with Mr. Random. This is not the same bond I share with my Internet-Boyfriend-Now-Friend. I think Mr. Random and I are brother and sister separated at birth.

I’m not going to tell you which day was the dreaded day. I like to completely avoid acknowledging the fact that I still have birthdays. I can tell you that I spend it the same way every year: I do nothing.

I don’t come into work, and I usually amuse myself somehow. In past years, I have trekked to San Francisco (or Alabama) for my birthday. This is because my family is so mean to me, I would much rather spend the day being somewhere I love.

Sidebar: I don’t really love Alabama, but my friend moved there, and she is very nice. She threw me a huge birthday party with her friends, even though they didn’t know me from a random guy at the Publix. I brought my violin and played with her cello friends.  She invited me this year too, but since I’m leaving for out of town next week, I declined.

My husband is nine months younger than me, and for three months out of the year, we are the same age. The other nine months, he is razzing me about me being so much older than he is, even though we graduated from high school in the same year. My daughter, Ms. MiniD, hopped on that bandwagon long ago. To hear the two of them, you’d think I was ready for a wheelchair and the nursing home.

This year, I wrote a chapter and a half and a piece for another forum I write for. Then we went out to dinner at a very chi-chi French place. It’s the kind of rich food that you must savor over the period of at least three hours, accompanied by wine and champagne. (Their housemade truffles are to die for.)

Something else also happened that day. (If you are of manly persuasion, you may want to fold up this post right now and move on.)

It was the return of The Curse.

Damn it, but I had been reveling in menopause for the last year! I practically told everyone I knew (including co-workers) because I was so happy to 1. not have that monthly thing going on and 2.  was finally warm enough at night that I didn’t need to hog the blankets. Of course, with over a year’s enjoyment of no need for feminine protection, I was caught with my pants down and no help. I even scoured Ms. MiniD’s bathroom, but to no avail.

I know if I go to Sam’s Club and buy the economy, jumbo box of tampons, my uterus will dry up completely next month, and there I will be. Of course, if I choose the other route and only buy as much as I need, I will have a great, big need for the jumbo box next month. (And the next, and the next.)

I was depressed before over the fact that I am again wintering in the Tundra. (In January, there were only three days – THREE – count ’em, that reached the 30 degree mark. That’s cold, people.) Now I am truly despondent. Here I am, 53 – friggin’ – years old and still not over it yet!

Well, that’s it for my birthday.

Happy Birthday to Me.

13 Responses

  1. Does menopause mean: men–it’s time to take a break from pestering us?

    Once upon a time, many men were embarrassed about going to the store to pick up tampons or pads for their lady companions. Never bothered me much.

    We had two parties for my 65th birthday and for my retirement. The second party was on the mainland. When we got to the French restaurant, my wife told the hostess, “Table for four, please,” so I knew Mama and Mommy were meeting us there.

    I said during the dinner, “I just realized only a year ago, that I have been ADHD and dyslexic all my life.” My daughter said, “I have been ADHD all my life as well.”

    I was very impressed. She graduated Phi Beta Kappa from college and just completed two years of calculus by distance learning so she could get into graduate school. I am bragging, but if I can’t brag about my child, who can I brag about?

  2. Actually, Mr. Random, menopause was strangely freeing for me. That was when we really went to town using the couch in the conference room at the office. I didn’t have to worry about getting pregnant. Well, I don’t have to worry anyway, because Mr. D is snipped, but for some reason, I became totally unhinged and uninhibited.

    It’s nice that you had parties. The only one of my children who remembered my birthday was my son’s girlfriend. My daughter called me the DAY AFTER my birthday to wish me happy birthday. I told her that since she forgot the real day, I am now 52 for another year. She was not amused.

    My daughter is ADD and if she graduates from college, you will hear me singing it on the rooftops. I’d love to brag about her. Maybe I’ll get that for a birthday present someday.

  3. I thought about you last week (well, not just last week; I think of you often). I knew it was your birthday. I think you share it with my sister. I forgot to call her until after midnight. I just have not been thinking too clearly of late. I remember something one minute and the next it is completely gone. I spend a lot of time going back and forth from one room to the last one I came from, hoping I will remember what it was I was on my way to do when I left that room.

    Now we’re both the same age again.

    You should come visit me. Of course, it’s been cold here, too but at least not as cold as your tundra home! I’d love to see you here. Any time. Just yell and I’ll come get you.

    Happy belated birthday, indeed!

  4. I could come and visit you, Corina! One of my friends from high school lives outside of Portland. I will wait for spring. Or summer.

  5. Hey, big plus — at least if you were going to have it, you didn’t have it while you were at your conference! Maybe you were just too stressed out and not taking care of yourself before, and now that you’ve got the chicks out the nest (well, again) you’ve relaxed? But I sympathize, I truly do.

    Buy the big one. Miss Mini-D ain’t gonna quit anytime soon. You can always give ’em to her.

  6. Wait…you mean it went away and then it CAME BACK? That is soooo wrong.

    Happy Birfday anyway.

  7. Happy Birthday Pan! I love birthdays – mine is at the end of this month and I am beginning the pre-birthday fuss in plenty of time to maximise the event. People have been telling me since I was in my early 20s that once I ‘get older’ I won’t want to celebrate my birthday anymore… but that’s nonsense. I will ALWAYS want to celebrate the one day each year which is all about me. 😉

    But I sympathise with your unhappiness over the return of the monthly visitor. I was on a pill for 2 years which completely stopped my periods and I loved it. It was so liberating – I could plan outdoors sports activities and camping trips without worrying about getting my period. Bliss. But that pill isn’t available in Australia so I’m back to cursing my luck once a month. 😦

    You should come and visit me here in Sydney if you’re fed up of the Tundra. We’ve had a 35-45 degree C heatwave here for days…

  8. I hate birthdays too but last week was my fortieth and I loved it! Felt free. Thirties were too stressfull waiting to be forty. All my friends are older than me so maybe that helps..hmm.

  9. Happy Un-Birthday!

    Mine came back too, after 18 months, but only about once every 3 or 4 months. Make sure you’re getting enough green leafy vegetables. It can be a sign of a vitamin K defecency.

    We were up to 68 today, and the guest room is ready.

  10. Shawn (and the others who have randomly and casually offered me a place to stay), one of these days I will hop into my car and drive toward your direction (or run down to the airport and charge the first plane going south). Please do not taunt me with your invitations. You may never know when a bedraggled woman wearing a Mongolian lamb jacket will appear at your doorstep.

  11. Just call me before your plane leaves so I’ll know when to pick you up and can get your room dusted. 🙂

  12. Yes, stay with Shawn. I’ll drive up. The other day when the TV guy said he didn’t need to enter the attic through the guest room I wept hysterical tears of gratitude. 🙂

  13. Okay, now you’d better come see me! Yay! Something to look forward to!

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