The last time the age on my birthday card will start with a ‘2’

(unless I am very, very lucky and/or advances in medicine explode in the next decade or so)

Last week I turned 29, the same age my mother was when I shot out of her womb.  You have no idea how immature that makes me feel, because unlike my mother, I am not, at this grand age:

  • married
  • procreating
  • able to deal with a financial crisis without phoning my dad

I’ll spare you dialogue about my early mid-life crisis, and skip ahead to what I actually did for my birthday.  On the actual day, I had a really long and shitty in-service day at school.  It involved a lot of despair, and I didn’t bother reminding anyone that it was my birthday, instead wishing to slip out of the building as quickly as possible at the end of the day (success).  Upon returning home, I got changed and left for spin class, where I was shouted at and made to sweat obscene amounts.  Then I went home to shower and go to bed.  Rock and motherfuckin’ roll, am I right?

The one thing I left out of the ultra depressing paragraph above is the surprise birthday present from he who has hitherto been referred to as Ian, but is now to be known as ‘Ultimate Boyfriend’.  Awaiting my arrival home after school, THIS is what I was confronted with in my bedroom:

If I was sexually attracted to objects, I would have rubbed myself up against this bike.

If I was sexually attracted to objects, I would have rubbed myself up against this bike.

I was speechless.  Hands down, this is one of the best birthday (and Valentine’s, I am told) presents I have received.  Unfortunately, as I am training for a marathon that will be happening in less than two months, I don’t really have much time or energy for any kind of exercise on the weekend that doesn’t involve my long run, so I haven’t had the chance to test it out.  Also, the weather has been crap-tastic.  However, in a week’s time I only have a 10 mile race since it’s a drop down week, so I can totally try this sexy machine out on Saturday.  I.  Am.  Pumped.

As a side note, I uploaded this photo to Facebook with the caption:

I think I can safely say Ian is an amazing boyfriend, and he may have just secured a Valentine’s blowjob.  Happy Birthday to me!

Once he realized the photo was online, he showed his colleagues without realizing what I had written, only to be pulled aside by his boss to be told how inappropriate it was to buy gifts for sexual favours.  In jest.

Speaking of weekends, the weekend after my birthday was when I celebrated with friends.  We went to a local pottery painting cafe that usually caters to children’s parties, and painted portraits of each other onto plates.  We all picked a name out of a hat and had two hours to paint our victim onto a plate that they could take home and cherish forever.  Here we are, hard at work:

IMG_20130222_211204There were obvious differences in artistic ability, which led to some comedy moments.  Here are the finished plates with the people they are meant to portray:

Lisa (by Katherine)

Lisa (by Katherine)

Katherine (by Bruce)

Katherine (by Bruce)

Ian (by Dylan)

Ian (by Dylan)

Dylan (by Grant)

Dylan (by Grant)

Grant (by Ian)

Grant (by Ian)

Bruce (by me)

Bruce (by me)

Me (by Lisa)

Me (by Lisa)

I was able to pick up the finished plated on Tuesday, and they are much more vivid.  Good for colour, less good for humorously terrible artistic skills.  And yes, Dylan morphed in George Michael during the painting process so Grant added a gold hoop earring and ‘FAITH!!’:

IMG_20130219_161908

This weekend ‘Ultimate Boyfriend’ and I are heading to Edinburgh for his sister’s 40th, then I have a long run of (hopefully) 21 miles on Sunday with some friends.  For the first time this year I have actually managed some mid-week runs instead of just stuff at the gym, so I’m hopeful that my calf is slowly getting better, with management.  It also means I might feel less guilty if I don’t nail 21 miles…

14 thoughts on “The last time the age on my birthday card will start with a ‘2’

  1. The plates on Instagram make much more sense now! You also have some wildly artistic friends. I’m hoping I wished you a happy birthday on some social medium, but just in case, happy birthday!

    I am constantly in crisis about my age. My mom was 27 when she had me, and just the thought makes me hyperventilate a little bit since I’m now past 27 and in no way feel mature enough to be responsible for a baby. I also had to have my dad fill out my retirement investing paper work a couple of months ago because I had no idea what I was even being asked to do. Still don’t.

    • I just can’t get my head around that kind of responsibility. I feel like I am still far too selfish to dedicate my time to a baby, and am happy just now to get a shot of babies that belong to friends for a bit, and then hand them back.

      One day that might change, but right now that feels like it needs to be in at least ten years…

  2. Can totally relate to the “not being able to handle a financial crisis without phoning my dad” — even now that I’m married, I still feel freak out and call my dad.

    Love the bike. And happy birthday!

    • Thanks! Yeah, my dad is like the most level-headed person on the planet. For sensible help – I call him. For when I’m having anxiety freak outs, I call my mother, because she humours me. My dad? He just matter-of-factly tells me everyone dies, there’s no point in worrying about it. Totally unhelpful when my heart is racing and I have convinced myself I am actually dying! …I appear to have gone off-topic.

  3. I recently-ish turned the big 3-0 and got a bike for my main present and had cake for breakfast so here’s to being growing old gracefully! Happy belated birthday!

  4. Like Amy, my mom was 27 when she had me, and my grandma was 27 when she had my mom. At one point, my mom jokingly said I needed to have my first at 27 too, but I was single then! I’m about to be 33 and I still get mildly freaked out about having babies. Not so much about the act itself, but rather that we might not be able to do nearly as much traveling and other selfish reasons.

    That bike is an awesome birthday present, well done Ian!

  5. I can’t remember much about my twenties, the thirties are a bit of a blur and i only really remember my fortieth birthday for the forty shots of tequila that lined the bar. This was of course before i became an anthlete. Nice blog.

  6. Discovering your blog. You crack me up. And for that bday/vday present? I think he did deserve a BJ for that! 😉 Happy belated birthday and don’t forget: you can always swap one of your shorter runs with a bike ride, I hear x-training is good for injuries! 🙂

    • Welcome aboard the over-sharing train. I followed through on my promise, though on Saturday morning because I was exhausted last week. I may take the x-training into consideration after my ‘girls night’ in a fortnight, because running hungover is about as fun as sniffing feet.

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