Shameless, Absolutely Shameless

"Happy Birthday to me, happy birthday to me, happy birthday dear me, happy birthday to me."

It's the ultimate irony. I've spent twenty years not making a big deal of my birthday. I wouldn't bring it up in conversation or tell anyone when it was coming up (or had actually arrived). Yet each birthday, I still looked for SOMEONE to remember what day it was and for someone to tell me "Happy Birthday!" without my having to prompt them. And every year, except for the closest of friends and relatives, I was . . . dissapointed . . .

Yet this year, I broke with tradition. I was determined not to be forgotten. I mentioned it at every available juncture and got very excited about it. For the first time, I shamelessly self-promoted - and now I feel even worse then if my birthday had been forgotten.

Why is it that I cannot simply either be content with the best wishes of the closest of friends and family or wallow shamelessly in the fact that it's a special day for me? Why is it that, instead of being excited about people wishing me a happy birthday, I feel like I've done something WRONG by telling them that it IS my birthday?!? Like somehow, by telling them it's my birthday and not having people remember, I become annoying, stupid, and controlling. Yet, if I DON'T tell anyone, people DO forget. It's inevitable - and they don't mean anything by it. I've had my birthday forgotten by many people . . . family included. But reminding people makes me feel like the ultimate b****. As if by reminding them, I'm forcing them to pay attention to me - like they are obligated to wish me a "happy birthday".

And on that cheerful note, I head off to sleep . . .

Birthdays suck . . .