Pros and Cons

Tomorrow, on the first day of 2015, nothing will feel different. New Year’s will be just another day. Of course, I’m not talking about the aftermath of all that partying. It’s just—this date; it’s not exactly magic. At least not for me. Which is really sad, because it’s my birthday.

So what are the pros and cons of having a birthday on New Year’s?

Pro:  I get to make lists.

Con:  You have to read them. (Actually, no one’s forcing you, except that ninja over there. The one peering over your shoulder. Smile and wave. He likes friendly people.)  

Pro:  The whole world celebrates my birthday. Talk about PARTY!!!!

Con:  I get antisocial at parties.

Pro:  Christmas doesn’t have long to fade before other exciting things happen.

Con:  After Thanksgiving pies and Christmas chocolate, birthday cake is not going to help my new resolution to eat better.

Pro:  I get to make my own birthday cake.

Con:  I make my own birthday cake.

Pro:  Birthday presents!

Con:  Because I have room for those amongst all the piles of books I got for Christmas.

Pro:  It’s a new year!

Con:  It feels suspiciously like last year.

Pro:  Convenience. I know exactly how old I was at any given point in any given year. I don’t have to hem and haw and rub my chin trying to figure out if June comes after April and whether that would have made me twelve or thirteen during the time of the Great Shenanigan.

Con:  Other people’s birthdays—like my friend’s—are easier to forget.

Pro:  When people ask, “So you’re a new Year’s baby?”, I get to look at them funny and ask right back, “Do I look like a baby?”

Con:  When they say yes.

Pro:  It’s really hard to forget my birthday.

Con:  I spent the last week thinking we were past the fifth of January already because vacation does that to my brain.

Pro:  My sister’s birthday comes six days later.

Con:  More. Cake.

 

Ever get those awkward family newsletters that go out around this time—the ones with the irrelevant, overly familiar personal information? Well, what a year it’s been. Thelma passed twelve kidney stones, Benjamin got arrested for drunk driving (I told him not to mix with that crowd, but when do kids his age ever listen?), and Nance is expecting quintuplets. Aside from gangrene and chronic gas, I’m recovering nicely from the liposuction incident.

I should totally write one of those. In fact, here goes—the completely true, mostly fictional account of 2014.

Well, what a year it’s been (which is basically saying it was a year—something we should already know). Just the other day, I was driving around town in my Lamborghini with my celebrity boyfriend, when I saw dozens of teenagers walking with cell phones in hand, texting as though their lives depended on it. And I thought to myself, “Goodness, why does nobody live in reality these days?”

I developed a severe allergy to O₂ mid-August, but the doctor thinks I must be getting superpowers, so I’m not too concerned. The hospital bills were high though…

Very high…

If you know what I mean.

I’m sure you all got lovely presents and…money…for Christmas.

Like I said, those hospital bills were high.

 

Now that you all refuse to take me seriously, though I can’t imagine why, I would like to wish you all a happy New Year (which seems rather self-serving, since it’s like the birthday girl going around wishing everyone a happy birthday on her birthday—alas, you’ll judge me, won’t you?). Even though the start of this year might not feel different and magical—though it could for you—this is still a chance for a fresh start and a new lease on life. Actually, every day gives you that chance—every dawn and every sunset. But somehow the marker on the calendar is far more convincing.

So, happy Second Chance Eve!