It’s been a while since I did a personal post on a Thursday, which is my designated “day”. For whatever reason, things seem to come to a head for me on Thursdays. I’m exhausted, overworked and usually indignant that it’s not the weekend already. Hello heart. Welcome to your perch on my sleeve.
This week I’m going to write about my birthday.
Normally I’d be tearing up at this point. I have Birthdayflation. I’m sure I’m not alone in this. It’s a childhood disorder brought on by too many lovingly baked cakes and balloon filled parties at an early age. The bar was set high in my youth.
This has not really been the case so much in my marriage. How it usually goes on birthdays and gifting holidays is this: The huz slinks out of the house at dawn to the nearest grocery store to scrounge up a card before I wake. His guilt/frustration over not procuring for me a thoughtful present clings to him a little like a stench. The stench of his disappointment in himself on these occasions is occasionally worse than my own disappointment and frustration with myself that something so stupid could make me feel so unloved. I’ve tried making lists for him, but that subverts his chance to be thoughtful (anyone can buy off a list). So he goes rogue or not at all. You see where that is going…
And here is where I should explain that it’s not his fault he has such trouble with presents and parties. He has giftlexia. Which I think is a real condition that needs to be studied. I even registered the URL, that’s how much I believe.
Giftlexia is what you call it when someone buys you the same orange bath salts three years in a row. Even though you already have two unused jars lined up in the bathroom. And you are allergic to the bath salts. And you hate the scent of oranges. The Giftlexic gifter finds themselves wandering through the aisles of Bath & Bodyworks and thinks… There is SOMETHING I remember about those bath salts. Hmmm. I better make sure to buy them. Not because they are unthoughtful. Because they don’t get the allure of “stuff” in the same way.
Giftlexics also are known for buying unsolicited self help equipment: treadmills for the overweight, pushup bras for the saggy boobed. Or practical stuff like a new vacuum.Not that my huz has committed these particular gifting offenses. He just falls into that classic Giftlexic trap of buying what people need rather than what they want.
So what do you get when you get giftlexia together with birthdayflation? A predictable crying jag, waiting to happen. B
But miraculously, for the first time in ages, that didn’t happen this year. For two reasons.
- My very thoughtful and “stuff” sensitive 13 yo intervened. Like an angel of birthday present mercy. She led her father straight to the Chanel counter. Past any stray bath salts or exercise equipment. Directly to a tube of red lipstick. I’m so proud of her. She’s been paying attention. I often say that every woman should have one tube of Chanel lipstick in her bag. However, I’d also been lamenting how long it’s been since I bought myself a decent lipstick, during a recent trip to the mall to buy overpriced lipgloss birthday gifts for a friend of hers. She quietly noted and formed a plan. That’s my girl!
- I didn’t wait for someone to celebrate me. I baked my own cake and I have planned my own birthday party. Full of awesomeness. Foods I like (or liked at some point in my youth) and treats/entertainment including a Hot Pink Ice Cream Truck. I’ve got Tiki Torches and music I like. People I love. Including a few I have not seen in forever, but wish I had more time to hang out with. I’m awed by the love (& food!) coming back at me.
Here is the Ice Cream Truck that is coming to my party. I’m as excited as an 8 yo! My party is at night and that means they can use their disco ball and their PA system to play my music! Woot!
And here is an excerpt from a 1946 Harper’s Bazaar column (courtesy of OMFG) on the importance of carrying a good tube of lipstick at all times. I recommend Chanel Passion Rouge Allure.
“When a women has lost her lover, when a girl has lost her job, when the doctor has told his fatal news, when the luck is leaving, the dinner party flopping, …the sudden streak of lipstick across the lips spells courage. It is not done frivolously, but resolutely, desperately, defiantly, even gaily, with the dash of dignity of a courageous heart.”
Sounds like a good insurance policy to me!
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