I have come to realise that the reason why I shun my own birthdays is because no one bothers to celebrate it with me. It’s not about the gifts, but the fact that nobody actually wants to spend the day with me.
Maybe it’s because I’m a terrible person. Maybe I have severe body odor. I don’t know, and honestly at 31 now, I probably shouldn’t even care anymore. Except I do.
It’s about the chalet BBQ where few turned up and proceeded to cluster among themselves instead of around the birthday “celebrity”.
It’s about the year where the husband almost forgot my birthday.
It’s about the time when I was 9 (or 10) and my mom slapped me in front of all my birthday party guests.
This year, I thank the special people in my life who took the time, effort and money to send gifts and spend time with me:
- Elaine, who sent a Starbucks gift card all the way from Hawaii
- Charlotte & Ben, who brought their 2 boys and a large durian cake, along with Hello Kitty pastries from Breadtalk
- Joshua, my firstborn, who gave me 50 cents to “go holiday with daddy”
- my mom-in-law, who delivered a velvet miu miu angbao with $xxx inside
As for the husband… more could be done after all that he’s fucked over. So no special mention for him. *flips hair*