Wednesday, 16 February 2011

I absolutely hate my birthday. To anyone who knows me and knows how much I love being the centre of attention this will come as a shock but, anyone who really knows me won't be too surprised. I hate the pressure of birthdays, I hate having a party and forcing my friends to celebrate ME and I hate the idea of things not being perfect.  I've always been like this and until last year I've never had a birthday party when I haven't been in a huff and ruined everything for myself.

My parents are so in love with birthdays though and I've always had the most lovely parties, the magicians of the moment and the best dresses but if one tiny detail didn't go exactly how I'd imagined I'd be devastated.  These huffs have ranged from crying in the corner to full on diva fit and it's something I'm definitely not proud of - I was a brat.

Something I was laughing about the other day was looking back to my Pocahontas Party when I was 6 and I wasn't allowed the prize even though I'd won musical bumps (I have always been very competitive) because my Mum said it was rude to win at my own party.  Nothing could cheer me up; not my friends, not the bouncy castle and not even the cake!

From then on there have been celebrations of various scales which I have built up in my head and have always managed to destroy but last year was different.  I had a night out like I'd have any normal night out and it was drama free and just nice.  I don't like the idea of being responsible for other people having a good time and I hate having to circulate amongst a large group.

So I'm going to be 21 and I'm hoping to let the whole thing quietly pass by with a meal and a cake and a little time off work.  That's the plan so far, but being well aware of what I'm like, I'll probably have a major huff if someone doesn't plan me a My Super Sweet 16 style surprise blowout!

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