So, in the uneventful category, today is my birthday. I’m pretty much okay with it not being a big to-do, (I did go to lunch w/my mom. It was fun) but there’s a small part of me that is still 9 or 5 and wants a big pink party dress, princess tiara and matching fluffy coconut cake with pink candles. I want people to stand around and clap just because and smile and cheer and give me gifts. Honestly, deep down in our girly subconscious who doesn’t want that?
The older I get the more I’ve given myself permission to be a complete girly girl from time to time. Pink seems to be the way I express that. You should see my bedroom. It looks like someone barffed Pepto Bismol in there. I pity and adore the man who dares to enter. The right man will deal with it. He’s a MAN. He may not love it, but he can handle it. Amen.
Oddly, pink does not come naturally to me. I grew up lime green–shag carpet, checked curtains, everything. I never had, nor ever wanted that fluffy birthday party above. I wouldn’t have been caught dead in pink when I was a kid. NEVER. In my 20s I gave over to black, goth before goth had a name, then denounced it in my 30s, except for cocktail parties. Now I like most colors, still green, with a little secret pension for pink. It feels so daring.
I didn’t get that birthday cake today, although there’s no reason I can’t make it for myself. I like to bake and my birthday can last as long as I want it to, right? I did however buy myself a gift today, not necessarily in the birthday category, but whatever: a new remote control–because I AM the queen of my castle, and as such don’t ever have to share the remote. I can watch Spike TV, HGTV or as many episodes of Burn Notice as i can locate. Any. Time. I want. The only thing that would make this baby better is if it came in pink. 😉