Marilyn Monroe - Happy Birthday Mr. Blogger

Who's dressed in a beige colored, rhinestone covered, form fitting dress with coifed blonde hair and 9-inch long eyelashes, teetering on his heels singing "Happy Birthday Mr. President"?

Me.

Who's singing it into a mirror?

Me.

Who's it for?

Me.

Today is my 38th Birthday. And I have developed a long love/hate relationship with it. I used to really hate my Birthday. I didn't like anyone making a fuss over it or anything. But then, when some friends followed my desires to NOT acknowledge it, I retorted with, "WELL, I DIDN'T MEAN IT!!" Yeah, I'm one of those...a closeted amateur martyr.

An old friend of mine who was always extremely thoughtful convinced me years ago, that my Birthday really isn't about me. That to mark one's Birthday is really for the friends and family of that person to honor her/him in their lives. For at least one day out of the year to make a point of it to let that person know how much they mean to them. That it really doesn't have anything to do with turning another year older.

After contemplating that for a while, I concur. I'm not bothered in the least about turning another year older...at least not for the next few hours. In this youth-obsessed society that we've created, I really don't give a fuck that I'm getting older. Everybody's doing it. So, why the hell would I care? And you know what? I'm paying attention, so I'm getting wiser (at least by my standards). Sure, it's through trial and error. I've made PLENTY of mistakes and continue to. And so what...so frickin' what. The older I get, the more comfortable I become in not knowing the things I don't know. And there sure is a lot of them.

I wouldn't want to go back if I could. Not that I didn't enjoy my high school years, or my college years, or my 20's, or early 30's, because I did. There have been plenty of troubles to grow from and plenty of wonders to love. And I have fully enjoyed the ride thus far. But I'm ready, I'm ready to keep getting older - aches and pains and tears and all.

Because, as is with the dynamics of life and its curve balls, those aforementioned things are juxtaposed against joy, song, dancing, laughter and love. And it's all perspective. I know how good it feels to be happy and laughing until I feel as though my sides will burst, because I've been sad to the point where I can't believe that the tears could keep spilling.

And I know how good it feels to be loved and to love, because when I was a cheap hooker and addicted to snorting Ajax, I wasn't feelin' no love, dawg. (Sorry, it was just getting a little serious.)

But honestly, it's cool. Not only am I enjoying receiving cards, emails and phone calls for my Birthday to be reminded that some people out there are thinking of me, but I'm okay with celebrating and marking my day. To remind myself how fortunate I am to have Will, our dogs and our home, to have our loving family and our fantastic friends. To enjoy the freedoms and quality of life that I do. And not to deceive you, it's far from perfect. But it's certainly worth celebrating.