Forest of the Plains

I have always enjoyed my birthday. Usually about May 9 I start an official countdown. During my birthday week I do “extra” things for myself – like visit a coffee shop several times. On my birthday I take the day off work and sleep in, go shopping, and eat sugary foods.

The year I turned 25, I started not looking forward to my birthday as much. That year it seemed like every person I knew (along with some I didn't) felt obligated to make comments about my being a quarter of a century old. I had never had a single issue with my age until being laughed at so much. So many people made fun of my age that year, that I didn't even want to mention my birthday when I turned 26.

I would like to point out that in most social circles it is considered extremely very overly rude to ask a woman her age, let alone laugh at it. I don't mind telling people how old I am, I just mind being teased about it.

Periodically people still make fun of how old I am. Sometimes people also laugh about the difference in age between John and me. I also hear people making fun of others' ages. And I notice that usually people are laughed at for being old, not for being young.

I don't think that age is something to laugh about. Ever.

A couple of weeks ago, my age was laughed at again. Although I am looking forward to my 29th birthday tomorrow, I am also dreading the inevitable comments. I can just hear all the wisecracks about me being close to 30.

So please, do us both a favor, and remember something your mother probably told you: If you don't have something nice to say, don't say anything at all.