Why My Birthday Is My Favorite

Oh the dreaded birthday. I've heard the older a person gets, the less and less that person enjoys their birthday; however, I must be some kind of large exception to this rule because my birthday is by far my favorite day of the year. In fact, I love my birthday so much that I use at an excuse to treat myself to a day of bliss (with a small budget of course, I do have a London trip to save for). Hence the reason I bought myself a Groupon for a day at the spa this year and a pair of ridiculously over-priced rain boots. (So the London budget may have been stretched just a little. Oops...) I figure my birthday is as good of a time as any to give myself the presents I feel I desperately deserve.

Although buying myself things is a definite plus to having a birthday, lately I've come to the realization that there must be more to my extreme birthday love than my self-proclaimed "need" for some self-indulgent gift giving. After much contemplation I've discovered that for me, my birthday signifies something truly wonderful. It signifies that I made it yet another year longer than I thought I would. It means that I get another year to make a bunch of mistakes, another year to travel, another year to meet new people, and another year to try and make a difference in this huge world.

So while most people may be moaning and groaning over yet another year of getting older, I'm going to be over here throwing myself a party with my new rain boots on and a big fat smile on my face knowing that this year may just be one of the best years of my life thus far. Who says depression has to be a show-stopper.

Happy 20th Birthday to me! (On August 5th, although I do accept celebrating of my birthday at really any time of the year)

xoxo,
Han