Yesterday, October 21st, was my birthday.
At six o’clock in the morning, my mom became the first person to ask “So, how’s it feel to be seventeen?” Well, Mom, it feels the same exact way it felt to be sixteen. Nothing changed overnight. A Birthday Fairy didn’t come to me in the middle of the night, sprinkling me with pixie dust that made my boobs bigger and filled brain with wise, mature thoughts. Sure, I can legally buy M-rated video games and see R-rated movies by myself now, but it’s not like I plan to do either of those things immediately. It wouldn’t make a difference whether I turned seventeen yesterday or eight days from now. Thanks to my terrible forgetfulness, I’ll be writing sixteen as my age until March anyway.
I never understood why kids get themselves excited about turning a certain age. I remember in seventh grade the people around me couldn’t wait to turn thirteen and finally become teenagers. Wooo, your age finally ends in the word “teen”. How thrilling. You want to know why I look forward to my birthday? People give me stuff and I get to eat a cake with my name on it. It’s the one day of the year that I can be somewhat self-centered without feeling guilty. Now that’s something to be excited about.
Overall, my birthday was fantastic. I was finally able to drive to school after two and a half months of sitting on the parking permit waiting list, Starbucks actually had a pumpkin cream cheese muffin left after school, and my mom made ham. I love ham.
