B.A.August 07, 2015
random pretty photo by Christa Rene Photography
My husband thinks the absolute best thing about his legal union with a Blogger is that said Blogger (that's me) makes Wish Lists for holiday gifting. He prefers when I drop my Wish Lists with enough advanced warning that he can order directly from my links and have them delivered in time for Mother's Day, Christmas, Arbor Day or what have you.
But I have Birthday Anxiety.
Like, hard core, don't talk about it, don't plan a party, please for the love of all things don't sing to me, fear of my own birthday.
I've always been a suffered of BA.
As a child, my mom was forced to send me to my room during my birthday party prep because watching the decorations go up sent me into a straight panic attack (seriously, why no one medicated me before my mid-twenties, I'll never understand).
As an adult, my BA prevents me from crafting witty blog posts about turning the page on a new year, what being the big three-one means to me and, of course, whipping up a beautiful graphic with a round up of the presents that I would love to open on the big day.
So, what's a husband to do?
Buy me wine.
And a gift card to Nordstrom.
(P.S. very wise choices, Husband, very wise)
I hope I'm not the only one who cannot hold on to a gift card to save her life. Those babies burn a hole in my pocket like you wouldn't believe. While I cannot stomach a birthday cake with my name on it, I can stomach discussing how I should spend that puppy.
I think at this stage in the game, I'm not into attempting to try on jeans (I'd rather stab my eye with a fork), so I'm headed for the shoe department with my gift card in hand. Shoes are always my friend (even though my feet grew a half size while I incubated my offspring) and never make me feel larger than life. I've had my eye on this pair of Toms booties (in Stucco, not black) since we moved back South and I can wear real shoes 11 months out of the year. Does anyone own these? Are they comfy? And by comfy, I mean do they feel like flip flops?
If I were really being honest about my lifestyle, I'd just go to Rack and buy like five pairs of cheap black leggings and call it a day but it's my birthday and I can live in a dream land of actual outfits and real shoes if I want to!
So, there it is.
My attempt to address turning one year older without really talking about my birthday.
I'm weird, just go with it.