I vowed to celebrate my own birthday this year and that felt…weird.
I used to love planning my (indoor) pool parties complete with whatever mermaid-esque paperware they had at Party City, picking out goody bag trinkets and cupcake flavors (always vanilla. Except for the one year it was carrot cake...?), designing invitations in PowerPoint (pre-Canva days). Making the guest list, decorating.
Back then we did a lot with a streamer.
Somehow post-30 celebrating my birthday felt kinda ick. So we’d go to dinner, keep it “low key”. Which still is something, I know, but there is a difference between celebrating your birthday and truly feeling celebratory.
Then there was last year’s birthday, a mentally dark and very challenging weekend. To be on this side, feeling much better — I felt like it was time to get in the spirit and acknowledge the good stuff.
This year I wanted to feel the celebratory feels. But I didn’t feel like crafting the big blowout or sending a calendar invite.
This year I got real about what celebration meant to me right now and realized it didn’t have to be anything grand. Or out of the ordinary. Or with anyone, either.
I could still take the day off work and spend it walking to my favorite coffee shop for a pumpkin pie latte, wandering a nearby botanical garden, reading on the lanai all evening, and finishing off my cake straight with the fork. And I could still call it a worthy celebration, worthy of taking that day off.
What a novel idea. Let yourself actually love what you love. And spend a day doing it.
Why is this sometimes so hard to do? It can be all too easy to get locked up in the expectations of others. Or preferences of others! Or simply chasing the perfect day.
So back to my actual birthday, which was the Saturday (the 16th) before the day I took off to celebrate (Monday the 18th). I vowed to spend the weekend exactly how I wanted, listening to my body and going with what it felt — until dinner Josh had planned and a Sunday surprise.
I spent Saturday morning at my leisure, sleeping in and eating mochi donuts in bed with Josh and Ghost before embarking on my kitchen adventure: creating a three-layer funfetti cake from scratch (which we consumed in its entirety by the following Monday). I read. I even went to the gym. And then, it was dinner.
It required two safety pins to close a hole in the side seam, one to secure the buttons, and a lifted arm may threaten to unsnap it in its entirety but alas I rocked a fun garment, selecting an item that felt the closest I could get to attending my own celebration dinner in sweatpants — which is what I originally had in mind.
It wasn’t much, dinner out. Just us two. Does it even warrant a fun outfit? Answer: of course. I no longer save the perfume and the nice candles for “someday special” because today is always that day. So on the outfit went. And dinner was delicious, and early, and we still had the night to eat cake and snuggle Ghost.
Sunset booze cruise celebrations of years-past was blissfully replaced by a Sunday surprise sunrise coffee cruise. Josh knew me well and arranged a few of our dear friends to meet us at the dock for a relaxing morning aboard the historic Vida Mia, a delightful vintage boat who’s rumored to have played host to Marlyn Monroe in their onboard bathtub. Iconic. We cruised along the Waikiki shoreline with coffee cups in hand and I put away several delicious decafs before we disembarked.
It’s like in Parks and Rec when Leslie throws Ron the perfect birthday celebration: a steak, a movie, and silence though he’s been terrified all day of being surprised with a big Anne-style blowout.
Knowing myself well enough to celebrate in a way that truly suits me, feeling comfortable in that, and being married to someone who also knows me and supports my softer, quieter transition. It is a beautiful thing. Definitely worth celebration.
Reminder: when it’s your birthday, celebrate however the fkk you want.