Why I Hate My Birthday

By Uloop Archives on July 3, 2013

It happens once a year.

You know, the day you age just a teensy bit more? It’s also the day your mother recalls so vividly as she weeps with joy. You’re also one year closer to your death. It can be the end all, be all of your year; possibly the last birthday you ever get to see. For some, it’s one hell of a celebration. But when it comes to mine, it might as well be the complete opposite.

Don’t get me wrong, it’s a blessing to be able to live another year. But now that I’m older, my birthday isn’t as exciting as it once was. The day has now turned into an okay-let’s-get-this-over-and-done-with kind of thing. It’s more of a mark I check off on my to-do list of the year; the “I’m finally caught up with my peers!” chant.

The day’s more tedious than ever now. Why?

1. Facebook: From ‘Thank you!’ to ‘Ashley Lee liked your wall post.’

I’m the kind of person who will take two hours out of her day and respond to every message written on my wall with a thank you response catered to how well I know the person. I’m rethinking it this year. As long as I’ve had a Facebook, I’ve made cute birthday wishes for people, only for some of them two days later to say they “liked” it.

I did not take time out of my day just for you just to click a button. And I know it did not take you two days to simply “like” something.

No, thank you.

2. Late for everything.

Since my birthday’s in August, I’m a late bloomer. Growing up, everyone got to first-handedly experience the milestone birthdays before I did. I was still a “kid” when most of my classmates were officially teenagers. I was still in the permit stage when kids were already driving themselves to school. I had finally turned 17 my senior year when people started turning 18 the very next month. And this past year, I realized most of my college friends will be 21 come junior year; a.k.a. legally having fun at the bars and getting all tipsy while I have to wait another year.

3. “Open it!” Awkward gift opening with an audience.

Ugh, I hate these moments. Why, why must people do this? Let me open the present in the comfort of my own room, by myself, so I can react the way I want, without people leaning in and snapping pictures trying to “read” my face.

4. Virgo. . . . . latin for virgin.

I was bored one day and did some research on my zodiac sign. It’s the sixth sign of the zodiac, and according to astrology.com, Virgos are picky and critical (not surprised). Then I read it symbolizes The Virgin, “although this association should not be taken literally.”

Yeah, okay. And I’m Zeuss’s daughter.

How are you going to throw that in my face and then tell me not to take it literally? Must be a sign from the Zodiac Gods I’ll be celibate forever.

5. Who to invite?

Then you have the parties- which can either go really well or extremely bad. I don’t like choosing between people to invite when I’m given a limit, mainly because I know what it’s like to not be invited to things.

To combat such a gory feeling, I try and keep things on the down low. If not, I make sure to invite entire groups. Otherwise, I can count on the unnecessary drama from me inviting three people and leaving the others wondering why the invitees are coincidentally not answering their phones.

And if that’s not an option, I end up playing it safe and relieving myself of hypothetical disasters. Nothing can go wrong with a family party.

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