It always sucked having summer birthdays. Everyone I knew was gone for the summer on amazing trips, so no big parties. Not that my family could really afford a brilliant party anyways. I don’t know what I was thinking…I wasn’t the most popular kid around (imagine an 8 yr old with my cynicism. Yeah.) So the idea of having a ton of people to a party was unrealistic to begin with, let alone my folks spending the kind of money the adult me knows would take to pull off the decorations in my head. I think I was mainly about the birthday presents. More people=more presents. This theory continued to prevail all through elementary.
As it was the next year my dad took a new job. So I missed my 13th birthday because we were moving. With this new job, my dad racked up the airline points, so we traveled summers for free. We were traveling on a 23 hr flight for my 14th birthday. They simply forgot my 15th birthday, as we were jetlagged in asia. I think I was puking into a paper bag on a plane the next birthday. Things generally went downhill from there, so is it any wonder I still crave that birthday bash a kid dreams of?
Even if I did get it, I wouldn’t fit into that dream dress that goes with it. Ah, age. The great killer of dreams.
I still hold to my party-present theory, you know. It’s legit. Scientific, even.