I hate my birthday. There, I’ve said it. I can’t remember a time in the past 7 years (since 9/11) that I’ve really enjoyed my birthday.
This year I thought it would be different. I told myself that I’d make sure I would have a fun birthday, past 7 years be damned! I even bought a gluten-free cake mix (vanilla, of course!) from Whole Foods so I could actually have a birthday cake. I can’t even remember the last time I had a birthday cake. I also picked up some of the oh so bad frosting (vanilla, of course!) to smear on top. You know the kind.. partially hydrogenated, sugary, just awful for you, but oh so delicious.
Well, despite my best efforts, my plan to have a birthday cake has massively failed. I just finished wiping up the entire top of the cake that crumbled when I tried to slide it out of the pan onto the cooling rack. I followed all of the directions to a T, cooling it in the pan for the recommended time.
My ruined birthday cake.
So, see.. I just hate my birthday. Not much seems to go right around this time of year for me, so for the past 7 birthdays I have yet to be excited or look forward to that supposedly special day when I was born.
Can I just pick another day and start celebrating it on that day, instead? Maybe sometime in Spring? Because, seriously, I give up. September 17th just isn’t a fun birthday anymore.