My brother has a pictorial tribute to me on his blog today in honor of my birthday. It’s a sweet sentiment, and I (sort of) appreciate it. On the one hand, all the college age pictures of me look so goofy. On the other, I thought I was heavy back then but I look so freaking thin compared to the present day ones that it depresses me. There is one photo of me in the last few years in that set, and in that one I just look fat old and tired.
Sigh. This is why I don’t like birthdays and hate to have celebrations or even recognitions of them. I wouldn’t have said a word about it if James hadn’t outed me. Having a birthday is, as they say, better than the alternative. To me, they are mile markers of a drive off a cliff, and I can’t say I find that comforting. Best to pretend they aren’t happening.