Birthday: The Aftermath

birthday aftermathIt’s never a pretty sight when a woman turns my age.

At least it’s all neon, like the 1980s (early 80s, anyway), the decade in which I came of age.

If by “came of age” one means “went through the unhappy, angsty pre-teen years, the happier but still angsty teenage years, and then finally went off to college right before the decade ended.”

Off to slap some Frownies on my face.

9 thoughts on “Birthday: The Aftermath

  1. Christina

    Hey – it’s your birthday? Many Happy Returns of The Day!!
    (and yeah, feel the same way about my birthdays… this year I pretty much skipped it altogether…)

    Like

  2. Christina

    Hey – it’s your birthday? Many Happy Returns of The Day!!
    (and yeah, feel the same way about my birthdays… this year I pretty much skipped it altogether…)

    Like

  3. Hey, it was my birthday the other day too! A four year old schoolmate of Little Boy G’s had the same birthday as mine. She asked me how I old I was. I told her seven (didn’t want her head to explode.) And she bought it! 7. 47. What’s the difference? HAPPY BIRTHDAY!

    Like

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