I’m now used to the looks of disappointment on the faces of family, friends, colleagues and strangers when they ask what I’m doing for my 40th birthday and I fail to respond with, “Doing shots off the chest of a hot waiter at the hippest bar in town.” Forgive me for not wanting my most precious birthday so far to turn into a scene from the offensive-if-the-gender-roles-were-reversed movie Magic Mike but I’ve never been much of a party girl and I’m not about to start now.
All I want to do on my 40th birthday is rest. I’d love to check into a hotel for the weekend with a good book, order a pot of tea and rest and read and sleep and sip, and so on and so forth. Not one person is happy with this plan (I’m sorry, whose birthday is it again?) so I have begrudgingly thought of something I might like to do as a second choice. I’ve booked tickets for my mum and I to see The Sound of Music with Andrew Daddo as Captain von Trapp.
What is it about my 40th that causes those who normally don’t care what I do from day-to-day or night-to-night to have a vested interest? Isn’t the beauty of getting older doing less of the activities you don’t like and more of what you do like because you care less and less about what others think of you?
I’m 40 and fabulous and watching The Sound of Music with my mum. We’ll probably share a box of Maltesers, and she’ll let me have more because it is my 40th after all.
Is it lame that I don't want to do a proper party to mark the occasion? I don't even want to organise a dinner with friends. All of my friend are so busy and overwhelmed with work and family commitments that I doubt many would be able to make it. Then I'd just spend the night feeling sad about all those who couldn't make it and trying to explain that I still don't drink alcohol (so stop buying me birthday drinks).