Some People are never satisfied!

Well, as some of you may know, the big five-oh is swiftly approaching. I’ve tried hiding behind corners and even considered climbing a tree to confuse the scent (not easy in a wheelchair!), but every time I look over my shoulder, there it is, doggedly following my every move. Relentlessly stalking, with a predatory stare in my direction.
So, I took a deep breath and decided to face up to it, to stop running away and to confront the beast. I looked into its greedy yellow eyes, squared my shoulders and took a deep breath, announcing firmly “My name is Siân, and I am nearly 50”.
Right, now that I’ve accepted it (doesn’t mean I like it, of course) then the next step is doing something about it, right?
I’ve perused the Internet, choosing an appropriate surprise birthday gift from my family… a beautiful silver moonstone necklace, a mere snip at …how much??? Mmm, not really that special after all, is it …?
Now… celebrations. Does one go for the intimate meal à deux, soft music, flattering lighting, obsequious waiter and unintelligible menu, followed by an even more outrageous bill? Scratch that one then.
Maybe a select group of close friends and/or family at a local restaurant – although then there’s the question of who sits next to who, problems with chatting to the person at the other end of the table, who’s driving and who’s drinking, old resentments leaping out as the wine flows faster... Maybe it would be better getting together in the comfortable surroundings of our own home instead. Scratch that last… think of all the tidying up and cooking beforehand, and the cleaning up and sorting out afterwards. We'd probably never get the stains out of the dog!
Maybe a huge surprise party…. Get hubby to hire some place somewhere, and invite everyone I know, then pretend to be surprised when my intimate meal à deux turns out to be a very public repast à deux hundred!!!! Oh no, just imagine that, all the people I have spent a life time trying not to mix together… all there together, telling gleeful tales of what I did when I was 4, regaling each other with stories of how I got kicked out of Guides, it’ll destroy my image of smart, sophisticated career girl…(Mind you, that image only exists in my head – in reality I’m fat, frumpy, jobless in a wheelchair and now fifty to boot!!).
Thinking about it, I realise that I do not actually want to celebrate being fifty, having attained half a century on this earth… half a century, can you believe how long that sounds, how old that makes me feel?
No, no, no! None of the above scenarios please. I absolutely do not want any form of acknowledgement whatsoever of this impending doom. Not a single balloon, banner or badge bearing the joyful proclamation “ Birthday Girl” or worse still “50 today”. I do not want a birthday cake, burdened by the weight of fifty candles; I do not want pats on the back with comments such as “Fifty eh, how does it feel?” or “Fifty is the new forty”. I’ll tell you how it blooming feels… ****, and as it happens I liked the old forty, thank you very much. In fact I still haven’t got used to being thirty, if it comes to that…. No, I hereby declare I do NOT want any of you to treat this day differently to any other… perhaps with the exception of a little chocolate cake (no candles) just as desert or something, but with no singing or anything… is that settled. Okay, thank you.



Just got back from holiday to find a letter from the hospital… My operation has been arranged for the 11th November. My birthday is on the 12th…

That means I’m going to wake up post operatively, on the morning of my 50th birthday, on my own, no balloons, no cards, no banners or badges, no pressies or hugs, no party, no get together, no celebration or going out, no romantic meal with hubby, or knees up at home with friends, nobody singing while I’m cringing … My birthday plans are just totally RUINED!!!!


(Sob!)