After reading a few previous blog posts of mine, I see that I am constantly reverting back to the childhood experiences I’ve come to adore and love. All the while writing about how I was fortunate enough to be a carefree child.
Keeping this in mind, I shan’t bore you with the repetitive sentence of ‘one of my many fond memories of childhood’ and shall instead state, most of my childhood years often revolves around the hidden joys of Christmas and being surrounded by various sized presents while playing the guessing game with my siblings.
The guessing game that I speak of includes said various sized presents that were given to my siblings and I from our Grandparents. Only to discover that our Grandmother had left the price tags on the present. At the end of the day, the guessing game was effectively commenced that Christmas Day after my poor Grandmother had to return all of the original presents when discovering that it was not her daughter but rather myself on the opposite end of the phone.
Least to say, I am still reminded of that Christmas and how freaky it is that I sound like my Mother on the phone and in person. It also doesn’t help that both of us answer the coming call with, “Hi, it’s me!”
Unlike my childhood, the element of surprise has somewhat waned with Christmas and my birthday as I am now held hostage in Satan’s kitchen and I have spent the last month, directing my family members on what it is exactly that I want as a present. However before that occurs, my version of the guessing game begins once again when I start wondering, pondering and questioning what it is exactly that I wish to receive as birthday presents.
All the while, I acknowledge that I’m that one step closer to Lady Blacksnot and I’s joke getting Botox at 30 and the downfall of my Bridget Jones like meltdown that features a fireman’s pole, a mini skirt and meeting Mr Darcy; who is dressed in a ugly snowman sweater while clutching onto a flute of bubbly.
With my upcoming twenty something birthday and the thought of trying to decide what it is that I would like possess, own and desire for my birthday presents, the fondest memories of what I wanted as a child sprouts to mind. Compared to other children my age at the time, I remember my brothers and sister wanted the realistic looking G.I Joe that came with a lethal looking plastic serrated knife and a Tonka truck. As for me, the thought of Barbie and her magical hair was soon replaced with my childhood idea for presents often ranged from a toy house and a political banner.
My childhood was often spent fantasying, when I wasn’t playing with Barbie and making her rescue Ken from a cardiac arrest, about owning a toy house that allowed me to physically walk into said toy house. When I wasn’t thinking about that toy house accommodating my height as I was always that child who was made to stand in the back row for class photos on photo day, I was dreaming of owning a political banner shaped in a daisy chain.
Safe to say, I don’t remember getting a toy house that could accommodate my height as they were all made for children who weren’t blessed with legs that went up to my armpits or a political banner.
Fast forward twenty or so birthdays when I realised that I’d never have a toy house as I wouldn’t be able to actually sit or fit in it (damn, tall leg genes!), I’ve spent a majority of my adult years planning and thinking about my upcoming birthday. Compared to a few years ago when I was heavily overweight and depressingly low due to how uncomfortable and insecure I felt about my body, I’m actually looking forward to this birthday.
Reasons behind this feeling this way is due to being alive for another year and for the first time in quite a while, I’m starting to become content with being a single gal in the city and spending it with girlfriends. Move over 2016 and all of the crap that was associated with that year and make way for 2017 and my new frame of mind as I’m thinking about what’s next to come within my life and where I am going.
With adulthood and my ways of thinking changing slightly, the toy house and political banner have been replaced with my desire for a particular television series that I’d fallen in love with by mistake or my promise of that one more ‘last’ book I desperately needed and desired. Only for said book to be read cover to cover in a matter of hours prior to it being slotted amongst my other novels that gathered dust in my vast library and collection of authors.
Since I have no idea what it is exactly that I would like to receive for birthday presents but I do have an idea of what I am going to be doing for the weekend, I’ll leave you Dearest Reader with a hint of what shall be occurring and yes, there shall be posts on my twenty something birthday.
Until next time,