Getting older again

Aging is, apparently, a big deal.  Not that it isn’t. It was my birthday this week, which got me thinking about aging, and the stereotype that it stinks.

Perhaps I’m still too young to appreciate aging.  I’m working through a Couch to 5K, my only child is two, I haven’t hit thirty yet, and I still get excited for my birthday because it means I get gifts.  Maybe I shouldn’t be so excited about gifts, but why not?

Is there something extremely magical about your birthday?  I mean, it’s a great day to celebrate being alive, but without the gifts and the cake and the smiles and the fun, what’s the point?  That’s just another day.  News Flash: I am older today than I was yesterday, and so are you.  The world has not ended in that time.  Though it might tomorrow; you never know.

People who hate birthdays often complain about getting older, and how much of a drag that is.  There’s odd pains, and gray hairs, and you can’t move as fast as you used to.  That’s forgetting the fact that age has allowed numerous experiences, some of which I’m sure that person quite enjoyed.  Or the fact that, at the end of the day, they’re still alive.

So don’t be that guy.  Seriously, it’s not that big of a deal.  We’d all rather celebrate your life with you, give you a slap on the back, maybe a quick jab in the ribs about how old you are, and have a good time.

Now, where’s the cake?


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