Birthday Basher

I took the weekend off for my birthday, and it has been a nice weekend.

Friday my mother took me for a massage, pedicure, and facial. It was my first massage and facial. The massage was nice she did a lovely job. I don’t usually go out for the things that I need to disrobe for, part of my pathological hatred for my body. I know it wasn’t even the fact that she was a stranger, I have the same problem with lovers and friends.

Before the massage I had the pedicure, and it was super groovey. I usually go for the less expensive version, but between the salt scrub and paraffin dip, I can see why the more expensive version would be tops on my list in the future. The girl that did my pedicure really did a gentle job as well.

After the massage came the facial, and I have to say it was less than marvelous. She dug all in my face and then gave me a speech about the oiliness in my skin eventually destroying my skin entirely. My skin felt really nice afterward, but it was a little stinky and nerve-wracking.

I think it was amazing that my mom was so kind to me for my birthday.

Saturday I was kind of dreading because it was my actual birthday and I was a little nervous about the change of age, but more nervous because there were plans that had been made far in advance by my beau (ex-beau I suppose now) and I felt uncomfortable accepting gifts from him.

The event was a trip to a mystery dinner theater spot with my family and a couple friends. It was a cute little night. The people were charmingly silly and vampy and over the top. My son laughed a lot, and I enjoyed myself. It was a nice birthday surprise. I feel like I don’t deserve the kindness being heaped upon me by those around me. I feel like a dark black lump of hate in my own life. Isn’t that a cheery birthday thought?

Well, whether I deserved it or not, it was a good birthday.

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