Take it all in, un-doctored. At least not since 1999 when I scanned it in and saved it.
The mom jorts with the stupid red hand prints on them.
The 1998 bejeweled rhinestone choker.
The photo of me with a very flattering facial expression when everyone jumps out and says, "Surprise!"
My future husband, who I had been dating for two months, is the boy standing behind me. This was our first photo together. He sort of spoiled the surprise the day before and told me this was a picnic with my family and I fell for it. We broke up that night because I like ruining lives.
Only one other friend showed up to my own party because my mom did not invite anyone else from my peer group. Instead it was all of my cute little cousins and my aunts there to love and embarrass me.
I have to say that this was my idea of a nightmare. I was at the peak of being on the highest dose of antidepressants Prozac and Wellbutrin and wondering why I was getting worse instead of better. I had not done well in school the previous semester. That backyard? Was not my backyard. It would grow to be my backyard, but we had just moved to that home and I was angry about it. I had been asleep the whole ride over which took over an hour and I was not in the mood to party.
I would be sixteen a week later and I spent the day sitting on the couch all alone and sad with no friends. I had grown up with all these dreams of how I would spend that day with both of my parents, my best friends, my boyfriend, and that's it. There was this property along the Chesapeake Bay where my parents used to party. It was surrounded with trees and in the center the grass had worn away into a dirt path. As a child my family and their friends would take their pick up trucks and tents and we would camp there. What I had wanted was one last camping trip with those I cared about. Instead my parents were divorced and I felt out of control. I was not even able to plan my own party.
Ah. Teenage angst. Poor spoiled me. People I loved cared enough to bake cakes for me and drive hours to my new house and love me and I wasn't having it. And instead of enjoying it I was too busy wondering why my boyfriend was not having a good time, feeling like I had to play hostess. I was not comfortable until everyone left and then I felt like a failure for not having enjoyed myself.
Now that I am older my idea of a perfect birthday is broken up into bits and pieces the way my life is. I see several people separately, or not at all. This year for my thirty-second birthday (June 28th) I had a small celebration with my husband, my mother, and my stepfather at the same house I spent it sixteen years ago. I could not have asked for a more stress-free, relaxing birthday where I felt comfortable, loved, and purely happy.
|We played Dominoes.|
|We ate crabs.|