I wish I believed in fairy tales, if only to use a magic spell that would make everyone around me forget this day—my birthday. Yes, the day that insists on reminding me that I’ve now racked up 47 years of experience. That’s right—47 years of love, struggle, blessings, and who-knows-how-many other unaccounted-for treasures. But for now, this milestone leads me into confusion, night sweats, and weight gain that requires no excuses.
Alas, I can’t summon any magic, and the blue genie from the lamp? He’s not picking up. It’s reality check time, and asking for a miraculous solution is like wishing for my wrinkles to smooth themselves out—impossible. So what’s left? A good plan! I’ve mapped out the day with military precision: breakfast with the family, followed by a blissful date with my couch, cats, and a blanket. A movie marathon awaits, complete with salty snacks, then sweets, then salty again. If I’m gaining weight anyway, and my belly is unapologetically showing off, I might as well make it worth the ride! You might as well revel in the food—no half-measures here. After all, since my grand “updated life plan” kicked in a couple of years ago, I’ve been battling my fitness goals like I’m training for the Olympics. Today’s a cheat day, though. It’s a double celebration with double excuses.
But wait, where was I? Oh yes, back to my grand birthday plan. And here’s where it gets tricky: these days, I can’t seem to focus on a single subject anymore. I start a conversation with friends, and before I know it, we’ve galloped through five topics without closing the loop on even one. I used to think it was me turning into an extroverted introvert, losing my social touch. Then I was told, quite lovingly, that this is all just part of the “precious symptoms” of midlife. They assured me it would get better. (Or maybe they were just being friendly. I suspect it’s more like you just get used to it.) Either way, I feel a little sorry for those who spend too much time around me. They’ll have to pay the price.
Now, back to my “special day,” as I keep veering off-topic (classic). The messages started rolling in early this morning. I don’t even know how it’s possible—I swear I removed all social media birthday notifications. Maybe my friends have their secret reminder apps designed purely to thwart me. One of them even organized a boat trip to the island. I did my best to hide the significance of the day, but my dear, adorable husband—who loves celebrating anything, from birthdays to successfully finishing a workday—shouted out, “It’s her birthday!” I saw it coming. I told him to keep it secret, but he couldn’t resist.
Naturally, revenge was immediately on my mind. As every woman knows, we’re excellent at planning payback, and this would be a monumental one. But, in the middle of the ocean, with nowhere to hide except overboard—knowing that I’m no Michael Phelps—I zoomed out of my vengeful thoughts and reluctantly accepted my fate. I plastered on the “pretend happy” smile and kissed everyone. It was over in a few minutes, thank goodness. I survived.
It ended up being a beautiful day. Sunshine, sand, and the soothing sound of the waves crashing against the shore made for a peaceful beach day. There’s something magical about connecting with nature, with the soft sand underfoot and the endless stretch of blue sky meeting the clear ocean. I couldn’t have asked for a more serene way to spend my special day.
The evening rolled around, and I finally returned to my original plan: comfy clothes, movies, and popcorn. The revenge? Oh yes, I didn’t forget. I bought myself a ticket to Paris—three glorious days to explore the City of Light on my terms. My husband may have shouted out my birthday, but now I get to shout “bonjour” to Paris!
And that, my friend, is how you win at birthdays.
Nada Najjar
