Everybody looks at me like I’m crazy when I say that I hate my birthday. For most people, it’s the most exciting time of the year; but, for me, I dread the week leading up to it whenever December rolls around. My sixteenth birthday was probably the best birthday that I can remember, and I spent most of the night in the hospital with my dad…so that pretty much sums up the experiences I’ve had. Without getting too depressing, I’ll explain why I just don’t like birthdays.
First and foremost, I’m a December baby. I can guarantee that every December baby reading this knows exactly what I’m talking about. Having a birthday right in the middle of the holiday season pretty much guarantees that trying to plan anything will be a huge, stressful mess. Everyone is so busy with family dinners, visiting distant relatives, and holiday parties that your birthday gets pushed faaaaar down their list of priorities. Oh, you wanted to go out for dinner with a couple of your closest friends to celebrate your birthday? Good luck figuring out a day that suits everybody, because it just won’t happen in December. Your only options are to celebrate in mid-November or accept that most of your friends won’t show up.
When I started university, this problem became so much worse because of the exam season. December is simply not a month designed for planning events. For the past three years, my birthday has landed right on the weekend between the first and second weeks of exams. I know it’s not fair to be annoyed that my friends need to study, but it’s disappointing when they say that they can’t spare an hour or two as a study-break.
Another problem with December birthdays is the dreaded combo-gift. I know that sound like a spoiled brat saying this, and I know that birthdays shouldn’t be all about the gifts, but this is an issue that someone with a birthday in July will never have to deal with. My mom always made a point to keep my Christmas and birthday gifts separate, but some of my friends and family haven’t gotten the memo after 20 years. Combo-gifts come in two forms: the “I don’t want to have to see you twice so let’s get this over with now” gift, or the “I’m broke from the holiday season, but I’ll still expect two separate gifts from you when it’s my turn” gift. Both are equally as disappointing, and a constant reminder that your birthday is pretty much unimportant to other people.
Speaking of gifts, I hate having to open them in front of people. I’m grateful for every single gift I’ve ever received, but there’s only so many times in one day that I can act like a Bath and Body Works candle has fundamentally altered my life. I never really know how I’m supposed to react to a $10 Starbucks gift card without looking like I’m either being sarcastic or ungrateful. I feel awkward dealing with all of the extra attention I’m getting just because I’m a year older, and I don’t know how I’m supposed to act around people!
While most people love their birthday, it’s my least favourite holiday of the year. I would much rather just have two Christmases (which doesn’t sound like that big of a request, considering most people combine my birthday with Christmas anyway).