I turned 40 in April. And 40 is a big deal. HUGE. So big in fact there are hashtags that pay homage to that particular age. And yes, I am #40andfabulous.
I’m also obsessed with birthdays. Probably because Mami always celebrated our birthday and made my born day (and that of my sister and brother) a big deal even when celebrating with just a few friends and cousins. She’d give us extra attention and whatever treat we desired. I always had a bottle of Coco Rico and an order of McDonald’s french fries waiting for me on my birthday when I arrived home from school.
And ice cream cake. Always ice cream cake.
That’s why I’m a birthday fanatic. That’s why I believe birthdays are our personal national holiday. That’s why I’ve demanded boyfriends of the past and friends and relatives to call me at midnight on April 16th. And that’s why Boo surprised me with a fun, fab and karaoke-filled birthday party/girls night out.
Karaoke. Always karaoke.
So yea. I am that chica who needs everyone to make her birthday a thang, especially her significant other. I used to feel ashamed about being so extra on my born day (others would pinpoint how dramatic this all was, including Boo). Now, I embrace it because, fuck it, it’s my day. And I’ve been fabulous way before turning 40.