In the past, birthdays were a big deal. I used to countdown the days. I started letting people know it was almost my birthday, starting right after Christmas and wouldn’t let them forget that it was coming up. This year was definitely different. I didn’t really care that my birthday was coming up. I didn’t care if we did anything special. All I cared about was remembering that now when I fill out forms, my age is 24 not 23.
I guess the excitement of turning another year diminishes when there are much more exciting things happening this year. In just over two months, I will be getting married. A few months after that, I will be buying a house. Somehow, spending money for a day that happens every year seems so small and unimportant in comparison. I didn’t make a cake, I would rather eat a good, healthy dinner. Is this what growing up is? I was forced by one of my co-workers to eat a piece of oreo pie at a local diner at lunch, but I wasn’t even that interested in it. For some reason, with all of the homemade pantry stuff, going out to dinner doesn’t seem to taste nearly as good as what we make at home. Plus, with working at making everything I eat, I am more conscious of what I put in my food. No, I’m not some crazy organic only person. I just care a bit more about nutrition than I used to and I am not as into sweets unless I’m really craving them.
I guess that I am getting older. I just noticed it on my birthday.