It’s NOT my birthday

Today is NOT my birthday.  I’m not turning 43 years old.  My eyesight is not changing on me and my metabolism is not slowing down.  You do not see love handles <= here or here =>, so do not look cuz they are not there.

I do not feel old. My back does not creak or pop or even stiffen when I have stayed too long in one position.  Nope.  My knees and shoulders do not make noise and nor do my hips when I shimmie, shake or pick up the boys.

I do not have crow’s feet or fine lines for that matter and that is no lie.   My jeans fit.  I like their tightness around my hips.  I do not have to wear those cute stylish shirts that billow out.  For that style I’m not SO thankful about.

I’m not going out tomorrow and that’s the truth.  I’m not going to take the day off from housework or making meals or homeschooling and somewhere in there is the truth.  I’m not going to make you guess.

I’m not going to say thank you to all my wonderful friends for not recognizing my birthday because as you know it is not today.  It’s just another day that needs no fanfare whatsoever.  I’ll thank you very much for not being that clever.

Since it’s not my birthday I won’t ask for a cameo ring from Etsy, or clothes (because they all fit), I do not want books to read or see Gaffigan in Austin or tickets to see movies and I did not see trailers for.  Nope.

So, wish me not a Happy Birthday because it is not.  I will not feel crappy.  No, I will not.

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