So today was my Birthday.
Yeah…yeah…no big fuss about it.
I stopped celebrating after I turned 30 anyway, and now at 35 forget it. It’s like there is this big black crow on my shoulder reminding me that I have officially entered the senile age…pretty much for everything!
It’s hard enough to run after your little one without having a heart attack and try to keep up with the latest fashion trends before hitting the “lady” section at the department store…noooo, you also have to hear the crap from your OB/GYN and her genuine interest on how many babies are we exactly planning to have.
You know, she just wants to let you know that you’re basically running out of time.
Just shoot me then and put me out of my misery.
I thought 35 is the new 25.
Yeah...total crap, I know.
Anyway, for all of you wondering why I’m a read head. This is what my mom used to tell me:
Me: “Mommy, Mommy…why do I have ginger hair?”
Mom: “Oh sweetie, you were born on Halloween night, precisely at 1.02 am on November 1st and Mommy that night, while she was waiting for you, ate a lot of pumpkin pie. You didn’t want to come out so the doctors went in and took you out and probably some of that pumpkin in my belly must have rubbed on you hair, giving you these beautiful strawberry locks”.
Me: “But Mommy, I want to be just like everybody else. And why do I have all these little dots on my face?”
Mommy: “Oh honey, those are just pumpkin seeds”.
This is my story.
Happy Birthday to me!