What also sucks is it's cold. Unless you live in Aruba or something. Want a cool party? Better make sure you only do something inside and with a lot of heat. So all you kids with birthdays where you can grill out, swim, play with dogs, and do all these other cool things, awesome for you. I had slumber parties bundled up and an ice skating party that ended in the hospital. I like to live dangerously if you can't tell.
I didn't have a lot of parties growing up due to my dad always working out of town and due to him already being home for Thanksgiving and Christmas, he couldn't really take off more time and come in between to see me turn a year older. I also, don't give me pity, never really had friends to invite to such parties. I made an effort to change this in high school, where I had two parties that were pretty decent.
The first one was my 16th. I finally moved from the tiny ass bedroom I had been in downstairs for way too long to the loft upstairs. I went from barely having room for a queen bed and a nightstand to enough room to even tumble (not advised to try that in your bedroom). The creative side in me drew up what I wanted the bedroom to look like. I went all out. The room was orange and I painted giant ass pink, yellow, green, and blue polka dots all over the walls. I painted the window sit green and the doors, too. The ceiling was blue and the trim was pink. I loved that stupid room so much (read that Mom? I LOVE IT. Thanks for painting over it after I moved out......jeez). I invited my small group of girlfriends from Drama class and we had a good time. It's funny the first year I had girlfriends, got presents on my birthday, and had a party was my first year I was a high school cheerleader. Even though, I was hanging out with nerds. But, that's how I am.
Since I was a cheerleader, and it was Friday before the kick-off of basketball season, I had to do a pep rally. As soon as it starts, I get bashed in the nose and have to run to the locker room with blood gushing everywhere. I miss the pep rally and end up pulling a couple of clots out. Awesome.
The rest of the day wasn't bad. My parents ordered pizza, I had a Little Mermaid cake (you never get too old for Disney) and we watched movies. It was fun. I never really felt like I belonged in a group of friends like that before, and honestly, I never have again to this day. In the end, one girl ended up getting with my boyfriend at the time (for another time), one girl ended up pretty much hating me for some reason, and one has ended up moving and starting a family). It's life, I guess.
The next year was different. Different school and a lot had happened over the past 12 months. In June/July, I ran away from home, trying to learn more about my biological father and his story, I came back (not by choice) and was starting a new private school that I ended up actually loving (and finish school a year early). There weren't many kids at this school, with the biggest class I had being like, maybe 9 students. Me being the 'I don't care' type and being honest and loud (I struggle with biting my tongue, and honestly, I don't want to) I became friends with everyone. So for my birthday, I invited everyone to go ice skating. The funny part is, I had come up with the idea to skate with a boy I really liked some time before, and then, he didn't even show up. Funny how life works. It didn't matter, I woke up that Saturday, excited to have a good time on my birthday for once, hopefully no injuries, no tears, and no worries.
We picked up a few of my classmates in the minivan and picked up my cake. It was a two tier Hello Kitty cake (I am mature for my age I swear, don't judge). We had all my classmates and also one old friend I had had since middle school (who I ended up dating for three or so years started later that day).
I had a good time. I watched everyone fall on their butts, we ate cake and nachos, I got the new iPod I really wanted, saw my 50 year old dad try to skate (Skate to him means holding on to the rail for dear life and making one lap in about 40 minutes and then calling it quits) and had a lot of laughs.
When it was time to leave, I was feeling pretty boss because I hadn't fallen. Everyone pretty much had fallen at least once and I was still going strong. I was making my way to the exit of the arena when a snotty nosed brat of a kid decided to cut me off, zooming by me and tripping my skate. I did a beautiful full twist and then landed right on the ass. Like, ice to bone. Great going, you spoke to soon.
I was in pain. Lots of it. But, it would go away. We got everything together and made our trip home. There were two girls, sisters, who I had invited to come back to my house and stay the night. we watched movies and pigged out some more. As the night wore on, I realized maybe the pain wasn't going to get better. I tried laying in every position possible, trying to see if I could get some sleep. Wrong.
In the early morning hours, my dad comes upstairs and tells me we have to get up. My mom was needing to go to the hospital. Well, so much for this birthday too. My ass was killing me and now my mom was having problems. We go to the ER and as we are waiting to hear what is wrong with my mom, I decided to speak up and get my butt checked up. There was no way this was just a bruise. It felt like something was literally grinding on my tail bone, and it was such a dull ache I couldn't bare standing, sitting, or laying.
So I get a scan and a ride in a wheelchair and find out I will have to be on pain meds and sit on an inflatable donut for a while. Awesome. Because inflatable donuts are totally in. High schoolers totally have those these days. My mom had a terrible kidney stone and we were ready to go home, doped up and sleepy.
I spend the next month in a fog pretty much, having to take pain meds. It was still the myspace days, and sometimes I would wake up and find that either my doped up ass wrote some pretty bizarre shit or an alien came into my room and wanted to play a joke on me. Either way, I started hiding my laptop downstairs when I knew I had to take some pain pills.
The next year, I was out of the house. My boyfriend (the guy at the party the year before) and I were living together and I went to college. I was aspiring to bake, and went to school for culinary. We lived about 30 minutes from where we grew up. He had a little pickup truck and we went back to our hometown to see friends and such often. It was the day before my birthday and a friend of ours said he wanted to make us dinner and give me a present. So we put on our rain coats and hopped in the truck. Not even a mile from the house, a wonderful, smart blonde college girl in her brand new Ford pickup ran a stop sign (it was raining, mind you) and T-Boned us. It only popped some plastic off of her truck and completely totaled ours. She got two tickets and was at fault, obviously, but I ended up taking my boyfriend to the hospital for whiplash. Then the next day, I got a terrible migraine and ended up at the ER myself with a 'grey spot on your brain'. That's literally what the doctor told me. WHAT?! I was watching House M.D (you better remember that awesome show) a lot at the time, and was pretty sure I was going to die. Until I went to my normal Dr and he said I just had a concussion. I still deal with migraines thanks to that accident.
Even before these incidents, I had injuries. I would be baking cookies to take to my class and burn my entire area of my hand between the thumb and the forefinger, I have cut myself deeply from just being an idiot, and knocked the breath out of myself from trying acrobatics in the living room knowing it wasn't a good idea. More recently, I have had stomach bugs, tonsillitis, lost a job, and other mishappens on/around my birthday. It's not a coincidence. No way.
After the car accident, I like to try and stay home and not do much for my birthday. I have a curse.It's a freakin curse and I know it. I was voodoo'd one time. Maybe the witch that gave birth to me had a seance when I was younger and did this to me.
Thanks a lot.
My father not letting go of that railing.
My crew at the time and that awesome funky room. (cough cough mom)
Hey, 17 year olds can like Hello kitty. Keep hating.
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