I'll admit it: I'm what I call a "birthday ham." I'm one of those women who likes a fuss on--and days before and after--her birthday, someone who comes out and tells people (strangers, store clerks, and the like) that it's my day of days. It's all a bit obnoxious I know, but I can't help it. Never is it more intense than on a big milestone birthday, and that's just what's happening this week. I'm turning 60, and God help my poor husband.
Obviously, my birthday blues are nothing compared to the real suffering COVID has caused, but still I'm frustrated that I'm greeting my 60s without a few trumpets and bright lights. I'm not bothered that I'm getting older; just that I'm getting older without sufficient fanfare.
Whoops! Want to read more?
Become a member to get these perks:
-
-
-
-
-
-
- Read all our bold, bodacious articles by top writers.
- Get discounts on trips and events, including Paris, Italy, Scotland, New York City.
- Join our members-only "Tribe" community to connect with like-minded women.
-
-
-
-
-