The Overshadowed Birthday

Yes, yes, tomorrow is my birthday. I'm turning 22 just in time to get married, I know, I know. And I need to preface this post with the acknowledgement that what I'm about to say may sound self-pitying, but it's not in any way.

I am one of those people who loves their birthday. Yes, I've been known to cry if it wasn't a good one (um, think 1992 and 1999, friends). I love that there is one day in the whole year that really belongs to you only (yes, mine also belongs to Betty Ford, Gerald Ford's wife, and Laura Lemmons, and my soon-to-be brother-in-law, Michael, swears it's the prophet Muhammed's too). I love that there is one day in the year that anyone you meet and tell it is your birthday will instantly either a) smile, b) wish you Happy Birthday, or c) instantly be nicer to you--i.e., toll booth workers, teachers, restaurant servers, etc.

Another thing I love about my birthday is that it is a palindrome: 4.8.84. It's the same backwards and forwards (eg, was it eliot's toilet i saw). This is not something that can happen this decade, you realize. I often feel very smug when asked for my birthdate, I can reply, "4884" with no break. And usually, the person has to stop and think for a second, and then they get it (and I'm thinking, Yeah, it's cool huh, sorry you can't have it).

This year is obviously different. Tomorrow, on my birthday, will be exactly two weeks before our wedding day. So of course, the birthday has been swept under the carpet, flown under the radar, blah blah blah, leaving me feeling semi-guilty that I am daring to have a birthday in the middle of all the hoopla and abundant gift-giving that's occurred in recent weeks/months. How dare I expect anything else at all?

Well, I'm not. My mom's making me a pink strawberry cake. And I'm turning 22 just in time. Will every year be like this?