Amidst all the other weekend skaters in Rockefeller Centre – there she was; twirling, dipping, arms stretched out, spinning,circling round and round – head up, back straight, smiling. The ice was hers, just hers and the music was playing, “I Enjoy Being a Girl.” And that is exactly what she was doing. She was enjoying being her, just for her. No one with her, no one cheering her on – just her, for her. Celebrating.

This past month I celebrated a birthday. I love my birthday, I love age. My day. I take myself out, I stay in – it’s my day. Last year I mailed myself a birthday card. This year I bought myself the most delicious decadent chocolate cake and had “Happy Birthday Sharon” written on it. Inside I was laughing – how much fun can this be? A lot, when you get the hang of it.

When my daughter was four, with no gift for me except her imagination, she took her Fisher Price Tea Set and announced – “Taa Daa, I got you a dishwasher!”

At this time my reality was that of the victim to those who feel the need to keep you in your place. They told me I had too much, that no one should have everything and it would do me good to go without. They purchased cards and gifts, wrapped them up and then said, “Oh no, no gift for you,” because at the crucial moment of the so-called special day, I would have stepped out of line, done something wrong and suddenly what ever was inside the fancy paper I no longer deserved. I felt neglected, forgotten, rejected – you know the routine.

But when your four year old becomes part of the game, in order that you get the message, “You get nothing”, it’s time to say, “Enough, I’m done.” Get up, go out and pick up a pizza, a bottle of wine and a cake. It’s not their day – it’s your day. It’s not up to them, it’s up to you. Allowing someone else to determine that you are not deserving is a message from you to you that you agree, and that, is far more hurtful then knowing there is a wrapped gift in some closet that you are never going to open.

Age is not about getting older, it’s about growing up. Growing up is the reward and I love the prize. Life is so much more fun, you develop a sense of humour and it all gets lighter. And we all know that the light is a much nicer place to be than the dark. My age has given me this and I salute it. The only thing I don’t like are those tiny crevice lines that appear around your mouth that your lipstick seeps into. Gives you that Miss Haversham look. Ghastly!

It’s my birthday!
In another song they say you can cry if you want to. Cry no! celebrate yes!!

To celebrate – to observe as a festival or occasion, with demonstrations of respect or rejoicing.

Wait for no one to give you this.
By taking charge of the celebration of me, my birthdays are grand in simple ways and as a result many remember me. And those who forget and remember later I enjoy even more. Then I celebrate the Unbirthday. My birthday is in February and when you are still celebrating in April – you know that you are doing it right.

The day you are born on is yours, celebrate your day. Raise a glass to you! Love you and know you deserve to be, to have fun and to enjoy the life you came to live.