My thirtieth birthday is fact approaching, and I am at a loss. Drawing a total blank on what I would like to do to celebrate what still feels like a momentous occasion (although it does seem to dwarf a bit in comparison to the whole “growing a new human being in your stomach” thing). Back before the pregnancy, when I was blissfully burden-free, I saw my thirtieth birthday party as a swanky affair up at some cool lounge in San Francisco, where all my friends would get together and pretend to be grown up and elegant for a night. However, there are a few new obstacles to my definition of “grown up” and “elegant” since I became an incubator.
One: Grown ups do not have a 9:30 bedtime. Unless they have a job that requires them to be up at the ass-crack of dawn. And I do not.
Two: Maternity clothes are not elegant. Unless you find an empire waist tied with a huge bow elegant. And if you do, I banish you from my blog forever (or until you’ve spent a good long time at www.gofugyourself.com and see the error of your ways).
Three: I’ve tried to dance around it, but frankly, I expected to spend a good portion of my thirtieth birthday elegantly wasted. I have not spent an entire birthday-day stone cold sober since the age of 19, and if ever I needed a drink, it would be on my 30th–whereupon I gaze at the ruins of my youth and pretend that I haven’t taken to counting down on birthdays instead of up (if I live until 80, I’ve got 50 more years ahead of me…I suppose you could look at that as incredibly morbid, but hell, I think I’m being pretty optimistic–80 wouldn’t be bad.
So, others have drummed up some ideas, and I will apparently be surprised by the form the celebration takes–although I checked to see if I could nap during if necessary (yes) and if it would be depressing if only the family showed up, because either people are just all really busy on the 26th, or else they took my email bemoaning my lost youth (and looks, and ability to get drunk) a little too seriously and didn’t want to commit to attending a drag of a party (answer: no).
However, whether I can drink or not, I absolutely insist that people get trashed when I have my baby shower–those things are insufferable when you’re sober.
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