It's funny, I don't get quite as excited as I used to get about birthdays. Remember, when we were little?
This is me.
See the chubby cheeks and the dimples?
Why aren't chubby cheeks and dimples cute on me any more? And why aren't birthdays as much fun as they used to be?
I remember when I would notice my "half birthday". I would comment on the fact that I was 8 and a half years old or 11 and a half years old. Yippee!!
I've arrived at this conclusion. Getting old sucks.
I don't like gray hair. I work very hard at eliminating every one. Wrinkles are no fun. I'm noticing more all the time. Gravity is not my friend.
That's just the surface stuff. The real kicker is what's going on inside - the aches and pains that have developed since I turned 40 leave me wondering how I'll make it to 70 - forget that, how I'll make it to 50!
I have to say, there are a few benefits to aging. Self-control is something I have gained. I have far more patience and deeper relationships with family, friends and the Lord. These things are priceless.
If only I could do a Benjamin Button and have that young body (not too young, maybe mid-twenty-ish) with this old mind, I would have it made!
Oh well, here we are. My birthday is coming, whether I like it or not. So, to those who care and will be buying me gifts (you know who you are.)
- I love coffee and salted caramels.
- I need something good to read.
- I don't have a decent pair of jeans that fit.
- I'm dying for a pedicure.
- I would love a nice dinner out (preferably Thai) and
- a movie would go great with dinner!
But really, you don't need to get me anything. I'm too old to celebrate birthdays.