Lent is over. Hallelujah. I ate lamb cake roughly two and a quarter minutes after groggily falling out of bed this morning.
It actually wasn’t as satisfying as I thought it would be. Usually when I give up sweets, I either enjoy them more than ever or I don’t even want to look at them. I feel the exact same way I did before Lent started – sugar-crazed and in a perpetual state of grossness. Maybe it’s because I cheated a little on the “no sweets” thing. I think mocha frappaccinos with the whip cream count as a dessert-esque food, and I devoured at least one a week. I also ate tiramisu one day because attractive Greek people at that attractive Greek restaurant made me. At least I’m slightly less likely to become a diabetic by age twenty-eight now.
This Easter was pretty good, though. I just like Easter. It has a good vibe. I mean, who doesn’t like bunnies? Oh, and I guess Jesus is cool, too. But my family has moved completely away from religious aspects of any holidays. I did watch The Ten Commandments. That’s enough, right? Sure it is.
That’s my tiny little family up there, sans me. I had a slightly better picture, but I wanted the one with my brother shoving pork in his face. It looks like a simple meal, but it was delicious. My mother’s sweet potatoes were divine. I didn’t eat as much as I would like to have, though. Halfway through the meal I started feeling violently ill. I don’t know if it was the five deviled eggs, the three Reeses bunnies, the twenty or so black olives, or the two and a half pieces of lamb cake that disrupted my insides, but it was definitely something unpleasant. I still shoved down another helping of ham and corn, though. Easter only comes once a year.
Did everyone have a good Easter? Or a good Sunday if you don’t celebrate it?
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.
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