Last week, I celebrated my 30-something-th birthday.
Usually I (try to) think of birthdays less as getting older and more like, you know, being grateful to still be around.
I managed to forget about this whole annoying ageing process by fighting it as hard as I could (Wrinkles? Which wrinkles?…What does greying hair even mean?).
A recent event however tipped off the balance of that wishful state.
My birthday present.
Usually Hubby and I start talking about my birthday presents weeks before (when I was younger it was months but I am very busy these days) and play a teasing/guessing game.
Which usually ends up with me getting my birthday present at least a week before it was due.
This year, as I was spending my birthday, on my very own, on the other side of the world on a business trip ( god I love those details that add nothing to the story), I realised I didn’t even think about my present this time.
If you are feeling sorry for me being on my own, please don’t.
I treated myself to the biggest Ice Cream Sunday EVER with super extra Chocolate sauce. Yum. Or I guess you could feel sorry for me but for a completely different reason (sigh).
Like I said, I was happy enough with my caloric bomb treat and my Little Man singing me “Happy Birthday” on FaceTime that I completely missed the lack of engagement on the present front from Hubby.
So when I made it back, I was surprised when Hubby said ” I do have a present for you, you know” (I guess he confused my jet-laggedness with some why-didn’t-I-get-my-present-yet sulking).
“Oh yes? I don’t really fancy a present”, I lied.
“You are getting one nevertheless”, replied my very wise wise man before adding ” I got you something you really REALLY wanted. Want to guess?”
“I hate guessing and there is nothing that I can think of anyway”, I helpfully replied.
“What is the thing you would like the most?”, persisted my very patient Hubby.
“One year of massages”, I blurted out there, acknowledging the dangerous territory I was heading into which could only end up with one of us being disappointed.
“One year of massages indeed”, he said.
At which point I decided to stop sulking. Oh I guess I WAS doing some of that after all.
You would have read on this blog how completely addicted to massages I was and always thought (and I guess said) that if money and time were no barriers, I would have a massage every week.
Hubby gave me the gift of both. Ama-zing.
As I was basking in this wonderfulness, I started
over-analysising the implications of that unusual present.
See, I used to like AND get material things: shoes, clothes, hum, shoes and clothes…. basically things serving at the altar of looking good I guess.
Now I wanted to take care of myself and I became more interested in feeling good.
Surely feeling vs. looking good is only a sign of how old I am actually getting, don’t you think?
Or maybe not.
Maybe a girl can have her cake and eat it. And as far as I am concerned, I ALWAYS eat the cake.
Maybe Hubby is sponsoring me to feel better so that I will ultimately look better:
1. By feeling good, my inner relaxed and soothed self will shine through. Ahhhhhh
2. More importantly I have spare cash to spend on material things now that Hubby is funding my biggest money draining addiction. Yesssssss.
What kind of presents do you favour: look or feel good ? Physical things or experiences ?
Photo credit: courtesy of the uber-yummy site www.bakerella.com