December Birthday Blues

To calculate the number of times you’ve heard me complain about my birthday take the number of years you’ve known me and multiply it by the number of times that birthdays and/ or birthday parties have come up in conversation during each year. Now take that number and add one….Because you’re about to hear it again.

I was born on December 26^th, better known as the day after Christmas, and it’s the one thing about myself that causes me the most grief (yes, even more than my bushy, uncontrollable, wolf-woman eyebrows). If I had to guess why it bothers me so much I would say it stems from growing up in a family of seven. When you have four siblings there are very few things in life that are just for you. All five of us kids shared a bedroom and all seven of us shared one bathroom. We shared toys, we often shared clothes, and we even shared friends. We had no say in what we ate for dinner and what to watch on TV was decided by the group as a whole. But birthdays were the one exception. On our birthday we would get to pick whatever we wanted for dinner and could choose what type of cake to have. For that one day our new toys were ours alone. From this I came to believe that a person should always feel special on his/ her birthday.

But when your birthday is December 26^th you rarely get that honor. The entire Western world is completely preoccupied with Christmas from the end of November until the third week in December and amidst the holiday hustle and bustle it’s easy to forget a birthday that isn’t THE birthday. Therefore, during the one time of the year that should be my special time, I become a mere afterthought. Gifts tend to be skimpy or non-existent because everyone’s budget is consumed by Christmas expenditures. People wrap my presents in Christmas wrapping paper or, if I’m lucky, they’ll wrap them in inside-out wrapping paper and write “HAPPY BIRTHDAY” on the white backdrop. Often times people try to give me a “two-in-one” gift, claiming that the present is for Christmas and my birthday combined. (I see right through you, people. I know you just forgot or are too cheap to buy two!) It’s not that I’m preoccupied with getting things. What’s important here is not the gift, but it’s the lack of effort and thoughtfulness shown by such a poor display. If your birthday falls in any other month of the year then people go out and buy a roll of birthday paper specifically for you, but if you’re unlucky enough to have been born in December you have to settle for reindeer printed remnants.

 

Another negative aspect of having a December birthday is that throwing a party is almost impossible. I haven’t had a real birthday party since I was six years old. People are always busy during the Christmas season, spending time with their families and traveling out of town to see relatives. At any other time of the year people might be willing to make special arrangements to ensure their attendance at a friend’s party, but not in December. Christmas is the premier holiday and everything else pales in comparison. I’m not in any way trying to say that my birthday should come before the celebration of Christ’s birth. All I’m saying is that it really sucks to have to compare your own importance to that of the Alpha & Omega and realize, on a yearly basis, that you have no chance of ever coming close.

As you can tell, I am far from finding the key to overcoming the birthday blues. I think it might be a mix between having really low expectations and really great family and friends who are willing to go out of their way on my account. Even if it takes me until the year I turn 80, I am determined to tackle this beast. I might just have to take matters into my own hands and throw myself a huge birthday bash bonanza with balloons, streamers, confetti, banners, a seven layer chocolate cake, and presents all wrapped in brightly colored birthday paper. If I expect any friends to attend I know I’d better give enough advance notice for them to cancel their Christmas plans. So save the date for December 26^th, 2062!