Like a new pair of shoes. Pretty, but a little uncomfortable. The kind you pay too much for, and then think about returning. The kind you know you'll never wear, but only bought cause they're in style. And like most of my shoes, this 30th birthday kinda stinks.

I've never ever ever been to school or work on my birthday before. My parents firmly believed that if a bunch of dead guys got holidays for their birthdays, then I was bloody well entitled to one too, if I wanted it. And I wanted it. This year, due to circumstances beyond my control (and I really hate anything that's beyond my control), I had to postpone my birthday holiday by a few days, and I was in the office today. I'm kinda glad I went.

I dressed up today - not too much, but something nice. I looked pretty. I made an effort. In case of a lunch invite. But I didn't receive an invite from my darling husband (or anyone else's husband, for that matter). In fact, all the people I expected spoiling from let me down big time. Y'all have some major ass kissing to do to make up for this, and y'all know who y'all are. It's a big ass, and I expect it to be thoroughly kissed! Were it not for Friend Bert who took pity on me by 3 o'clock and brought me a Happy Meal (and let me keep the toy), I would still be sitting dressed up at my desk like Miss Havisham. Y'all are soooo disowned!

But colleagues have proven themselves to be far better than personal friends when it comes to this birthday stuff. One baked me cupcakes. Another bought me gift certificates. The Boss bought me a spa package. There was much merry-making and spoiling of the RG at the office today.

Which means I learned something (and after all, isn't growing older all about growing wiser?). It isn't school or work I should be avoiding on International Wendy Day. In fact, I should look forward to the office on such days. It's home I should avoid.

(I should clarify - this is specifically a downtown rant. and those of you who were at my birthday dinner on Saturday? This doesn't apply to you.)