Monday, February 24, 2014

It's My Party And I Dunno

A while back, I was listening to my friend Christie talking about aging on her podcast, Fitmuses. She said she thinks one side of her face is aging quicker than the other. I remember thinking that was probably in her head. I mean, Christie's one of those super hot chicks that's always complaining she gained a pound or whatever. I think I may have rolled my eyes a tiny bit. But then, this morning, as I put my makeup on by the natural light in my bathroom, I smiled at myself in the mirror. (We were sharing an inside joke.) And there, on the left side of my face, were more what do you call them, crow's feet? Eye creases? There were more of those thingies on the left side of my face than the right when I smiled. Ugh.

Christie thinks this might be because of driving. I think she's probably right. That side of your face is getting years and years more exposure.  In Los Angeles, we spend half of our lives in the driver's seat of our cars, soaking up that California sunshine right into our pores. Doesn't matter that I wear sunscreen religiously. Doesn't matter at all. Still gonna age, ammiright? CanIGetAnAmen? BUT, SO WHAT?

Right?

So, this wasn't the most awesome morning revelation but it's not that big of a deal. I don't really care. Except for that my birthday is a week from today. And this year it's all feeling a bit different. I used to look forward to my birthday for months. As a kid, I'd start planning the celebration right after Christmas. Should I get a My Little Pony cake or a Strawberry Shortcake cake? Should we do gymnastics in the living room before or after we make ribbon barrettes for an hour? Should I even invite Becky because she said she hated The Karate Kid? As an adult, I usually just go out to brunch with a few close friends, which is awesome. But, why do we adults feel the need to do anything at all? What are we celebrating? Hurtling towards death (or in my case, 40)?

Last year Tim and I went crazy and had a co-party at a local bar for our birthdays, which are only two weeks apart. It was really fun, I'm not gonna lie. I had a great time and was honored that so many people came out to celebrate with us. But did my surviving 37 years really warrant a party? I don't know. I really don't. This year I don't know if I'll do anything at all. Is that even allowed? I mean, I regularly go to other people's birthday celebrations and I love it. Why does my own have to be such a deal? Why do I care and also not care so vehemently? Why, when someone asks me what I'm doing, do I immediately become uncomfortable?

I think it has to do with the left side of my face. I also think maybe we're just celebrating surviving. Or existing. Or that for that one day, something about you is special.

So, maybe I'm not gonna do anything. Maybe I'm just gonna, I don't know, wash M&Ms down with vodka and google "Best Sunscreen On Planet Earth." Or maybe just a tiiiny party.

*photo of me on the London Eye, having a great time while aging. :)