Thank you for the Birth of Me!



This is the part where ya’ll sing Happy Birthday and I pretend to be embarrassed (even though I’m not really, but it is a bit awkward). 


This is the part where ya’ll say:

“Wow, you look great for your age! You’re so… um, tall!”   

“You look so…um, good in those flannel pajamas!” 

and “ You have such a good personality for your age!”


Actually, I’m feelin’ okay about this being the last year of my forties.

It’s not so terrible.


I don’t have too many gray hairs yet (about 7 or 8 of ‘em) but that’s not my healthy aging lifestyle, it’s just the redhead gene.

And I can sit down on a low sofa without making that funny grunt noise.

It’s the getting back up that is not so elegant.

All my body parts still work. 

All my teeth are still connected to their roots. 


I am still as tall as I was yesterday and approximately the same weight I was in High School (It’s just distributed differently).


I still get noticed on the street (when I walk in front of big trucks and hit the tires with my purse).


I don’t feel so much like a slab o’ Yugoslobbian beef!

In fact, I’m a B-A-B-E! Yep! I’m  hot! oh yeah, I’m… Aw geez, never mind. All that hubbub is wearin’ me out.


I’m gonna go take my birthday bubble bath now.

And I’m gonna sit in there for two hours so I can practice looking like a pink prune.


Yeah, yeah, Happy  Birthday… whatever.


No wait! I was just kidding! I want carrot cake!

I’m okay, really! I’ll be spunky, I promise!

Carrot Caaaake!

~ by leakelley on February 7, 2008.

3 Responses to “Thank you for the Birth of Me!”

  1. Happy birthday!

    If you didn’t know what year you were born, how old would you think you were?

  2. I guess I would be a newborn every time I woke up!
    Hey, that sounds like a good way to live!
    Thanks, Kitty!

  3. Happy Burfday, LJK. Do ya got a bumper? I can’t wait to hear about your dinner with G&K.

    Hey, about that hitting the tires with your purse thing…did you forget that you move furniture with your purse slung over your shoulder? In case you have (because of that aging thang), the rest of us remember. Not because our short-term memory is intact, but because the visual is imprinted on our brains and now lives in the long-term memory nodes. It’s a sweet picture. You, a couch, and your purse. Aaahhh. Memories.

    49 ain’t so bad. It’s just the year before FIFTY, which, by the way, ain’t so bad either. Every year is precious, if you choose it, and I know you know.

    Happy freakin’ bumperday,

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