Time flies when you have no time…

Fourteen months since I wrote anything bloggy (that apparently isn’t a word so to make it ligit I threw another ‘g’ in there) I can’t quite wrap my head around how much time has passed. It seems like just yesterday I had nothing better to do than write about what I saw wrong with the world.
Ironically back then I despised all the time I had and wanted more than anything to grow up and for something exciting to happen.. little did I know that the time when I had all the time in the world was the thing I’d soon miss most. The phrase time flies when you’re having fun made sense when I was younger, time spent playing imaginary games in my garden with friends was over in what felt like a second, whereas dragging round Tesco with my parents was an agonisingly endless chore.

It’s only till recently that I’ve thought differently about time, that actually time only flies when you’re not paying attention, so whether it’s because you’re pretending you’re a Pevensie arriving in Narnia (come on we all thought about it) or you’re working five day weeks for the first time in your life, you are distracted and that’s all time needs to pass you by. That’s not to say time passing by is a bad thing because it’s not, only that when time’s passing you by it’s always best to pay a little attention, because sometimes the best things happen when we’re not looking.
So take some time this week to smell the roses or you’re preferable flower.

After all you’ll only miss it when it’s gone

Your-thoughtful-friend

Tabitha.S

From England with complaints

Whilst watching a movie that’s set in England but not filmed by ‘brits’ there are sometimes (not always) stereotypical mistakes that are made over and over again, that leave me shouting at my tv screen. Although I imagine British people do the exact thing with America, I am British and so wouldn’t know.
I live in the South of England no not London another place that’s not as publicized. I’ve lived in England my whole life and no matter what movies would have you believe I don’t speak like the Queen nor do I know anyone who speaks like Russell Brand. Another preconception of England is that if you don’t live in London (the city) you live on an estate surrounding by luscious green fields, neatly trimmed and kept so immaculate that they could be dined off and that you wander these fields King Charles Spaniel at heel in welly boots and riding gear, with your nose in the air looking like you just stepped in something, having just returned from “todays ride”.
Now, I live in a rural area and my “estate” is a garden that’s probably a twelfth of the size of one of those fields. And on the one occasion I’ve ridden a horse; it was at a petting zoo/farm, I was six and I was led around a very small, muddy paddock, it was embarrassing and I haven’t done it since.
‘Crumpets, Scones and English Muffins’ are three (yummy) foods that are typically British, but I rarely have any of them, in fact I had English Muffins for the first time a few years ago.

I’m not someone who considers them self “British” other than the fact it’s my place of birth and origin, I don’t get excited over a ‘royal family’ article in the newspaper or have a British flag hanging outside my window so I don’t pretend to be England’s advocate I just wish movies portrayed England in a more realistic view

Although I can assure there are people out here that fit the views of the movies, and knowing the way things work, God will teach me a lesson and I’ll meet one the day after posting this, but I thought I’d show you that there is more to England than afternoon tea parties with jam and scones…. Although I do really like scones …with jam and … cream, great now I’m hungry

Your-British-Scone-deprived-friend
Tabitha s. xx

P.S
I’d love to hear if British movies (about America) are as cringingly wrong as some American movies (about England) are, thanks.

To fly or not to fly, now that’s a question

Despite being a frequent flyer; my first flight being when I was still a baby, I’ve never been a big fan of landings although I’m not that keen on being in the sky either so airlines can’t really win with me… here’s the reasons why.

And we have take-off… Take-off is one of the most crucial parts of an airplane flight, but I think we’d all agree that if it wasn’t we would all go without it. I seriously doubt that if we were supposed to fly we would experience the feeling we do during take-off, maybe just maybe someone (G.) is trying to say something…

So, how ‘bout that airplane food? No but really that stuff is just gross. As I’ve mentioned before I’m not filthy rich and if you’re not either you’ve probably tasted the horror (in a plastic packet) that is plane food. Firstly it’s never cold, that’s great you say? Oh it is but not when you’re on an airplane with just enough space to breathe, a table that’s only big enough for a mini drink (a size only served on airplanes) and half a plate,  the last thing you want is a packet of scolding hot of “food” to contend with, go on try it. Secondly it tastes like plastic, so with that I rest my case.

Time doesn’t actually fly. Maybe this is just me but the amount of time you spend on a plane is agony. There isn’t a lot to do on a plane, as there are only so many times you can read the same magazine before you start to go a little crazy in the head. Of course you can watch a movie that is if you’ve got noise-cancelling headphones because if you don’t your IPod will be forced into a battle with the plane engine, a fight even it knows it will never win. You can always relax and get forty winks, but if you’re not flying first-class; where they provide you with a luxurious bed to lie down on (or so I’ve heard) it’s not going to be relaxing and you’re more likely only to get five winks (if you’re lucky).

Quit kicking the back of my seat! There is always someone on a plane who annoys you and I don’t know whether this is to do with the air pressure and being trapped in a confined space, but it always aggravates me more than it would normally. You’ll get someone in front of you who insists on reclining their seat right back till they’re practically lying on your lap, really airlines why is this an option? I think we’ve covered you can’t actually sleep on a plane. Or there’s that little kid who’s not particularly enjoying the flight; i.e. he’s bored out of his mind, so for entertainment he decides to drive you ‘round the bend kicking the back of your seat and to all those kids out there here’s a message:
Dear the little brat—I mean child in the seat behind,
We’re all in the same boat, or in this case plane I know you’re bored and I’m very sorry (and bored too), but how on this earth is kicking the back of my seat entertaining?
Please I beg of you, just stop it. I know they don’t let you take sharp objects onto a plane but if you keep going I’ll figure something out.
Yours sincerely,
the person in front of you

Turbulence, just no. I think it’s the norm to have experienced turbulence during a flight. you know the deal, everyone begins to look concerned, passengers whispering to each other about past turbulence experiences that they (surprisingly) survived, that guy who was unlucky enough to be returning from the toilets at this time stumbles back to the seats frantically grabbing every seat head rest, whether there’s a passenger resting their head there or not. The pilot gives a brief message over the speakers usually saying something like this:
“We’re experiencing some turbulence” this part is obvious but we’ll let him off
“Please remain seated until the seat-belt signs turn off” now although during turbulence is the perfect time to use the toilet as there’s no queues I still don’t think anyone’s that desperate, it’s only when they say they’re not selling any food that you need to worry, or on second thought that’s actually a good thing.
Of course there’s no need to panic, it’s not the end of the world because after all, the world is beneath you.

So if you just happen to know of someone that owns an airline or maybe own one yourself, please consider some of my (very important) complaints also please don’t be offended I complain a lot.

Your-frequently-flying-frequently-complaining-friend
Tabitha s. xx

If life were as simple as Disney…

I’ve realized over time that to live in a Disney movie would be a dream, there’s something about being able to break into (incredibly descriptive) song about exactly what you’re going through while running down the stairs without receiving strange looks from passers-by . You could where long, flowing dresses 24/7, your hair would always look perfect and wild animals would follow you around because they love you and not because you’re carrying a small portion of chips. You could run around the forest without having to worry about getting lost and (most importantly) your love life would be a piece (of perfectly frosted) cake. Of course there’s the little detail of an evil stepmother who favours her ugly children over you, a weird looking fairy who curses you because she wasn’t invited to the celebration of your birth, a one-handed pirate who blames you for his accident, an evil queen who thinks you’re too pretty to live, or an angry hunter who wants to kill you and put you on display, no really (Bambi). Although if you look closely all these things are complements, yeah they’re not particularly nice things to do but they do prove you’re either ‘pretty, really pretty, popular, too pretty, kind, or look good alongside dead wildlife on a wall’ if you look at it like that It’s not all that bad at least you know you’ll get your happy ending with a beautiful song playing in the background….
You’d never have to go looking for your future husband; he’d ride in on a white horse or find that shoe you’ve been looking for, for ever, No awkward crushes because you’d know exactly who he was.
Another great thing about living in a Disney movie is that you’ve always got a friend (in me, you’ve got—no)  whether it’s a singing, dancing cricket, a fairy godmother who makes things from pumpkins, a dragon with sass, a jealous fairy or a family of (totally cute!) mice rest assured you’ll never be lonely.
So if this doesn’t convince you to pack your bags and fly to Neverland or catch the next train to Wonderland, we’ll have to bring in the big guns…
“Hey, someone give Mr (the) Pooh a call!”

Your-Sleeping-flying-shoe-losing-pale-skinned-doe-eyed-friend
Tabitha s.

Christmas = Movies and Chocolate

Christmas is finally here! I guess I’m in the majority (for once) in saying that ‘Christmas is my favorite time of the year’. I absolutely love Christmas in fact if I could only have one month for the whole year it would be December, although I imagine ‘We Wish you a Merry Christmas’ would get rather annoying after a while. There’s so much to love about Christmas, the woolly jumpers, the wintery weather, Christmas lights, decorations, Christmas music playing on Sky TV guide, everything about Christmas is so warming; which brings me to another Christmas favorite of mine ‘Hot Chocolate’ yeah you can drink it at any time of the year, but nothing says Christmas more than sipping a nice cup of Hot Chocolate when the weather outside is frightful.
Christmas is the best time for movies even though they all usually follow the same pattern ‘fat, old man comes to stay with family containing at least one child, turns out to be Santa and teaches the family a lesson’ personally I’ve never understood the idea of allowing a complete stranger into your home to sleep under the same roof as your family just because your children think he’s Santa, but what the heck, it’s Christmas! (But still please don’t try this at home.)
Another Christmas tradition I love is advent calendars despite probably passing the age suitable for having one, I still asked this year. Yes the chocolate tastes like cardboard and the doors rarely open without struggle but how else am I supposed to find out what day it is, check my phone what’s Christmassy about that?
So I hope in this short post ’I’ve overloaded you with the Christmas spirit enough for you to want a hot cup of Chocolate and a cheesy Christmas movie, because even though it’s not the meaning of Christmas it’s a pretty fun part.

Have a Merry Christmas.

Your-festive-friend
Tabitha s. xx

Is it Hot in here or is it just me?

I went away a couple weeks ago for a short holiday with friends and family and while there we visited a sauna, I wasn’t in the best of moods about going in fact by the time I’d woken up that morning I’d managed to convince myself that I wouldn’t at all like it, I of course, as per usual was wrong, but let’s not jump ahead. So I woke up feeling rather nervous about the whole thing why, you ask?  Let me explain. When most people think of a sauna they think: relaxation, calmness and serenity, but when I thought of saunas I thought: being trapped in a small room filled with people you don’t know plus it’s steamy so you can’t breathe or see. It may to you look like I have a very negative view on life, but you see in my mind it’s much better to have a preconceived idea that something is going to be horrible (and worry about it for an allotted amount of time) only to find out that it actually isn’t anything as horrific as you thought, than to imagine something’s going to be great for it to be awful, I’m slowly but surely realizing this isn’t always the best idea.
On entering the locker-rooms you’re given a towel and a (one size fits all) robe; these robes looked great on everyone but me, while others looked like normal ‘spa-goers’ I just looked like a wizard arriving for her first year at Hogwarts (just hand me a caged owl and call me Harry.)
I felt nervous as we entered the first sauna, the door clicked shut and I immediately felt the need to dramatically gasp for air and roll around on the floor but there were people there so I remained calm, that was on the outside on the inside I was imagining scenarios where the door wouldn’t open and we’d all die from the heat. I was still panicking when I overheard someone explaining that this was only a room that accustomed your body to the hot temperatures and that it wasn’t actually a sauna…   Next we tried out an actual sauna, it was Greek and smelt of herbs I love Greece, I really do but their  saunas smell disgusting. It’s bad enough trying to breathe in saunas, without adding an odour that makes you consider not bothering.
After figuring out how to breathe again we felt brave (or stupid) enough and tried out the steam rooms. These places are never well-lit (for relaxation purposes) so on entering you immediately lose all sense of sight and began feeling along the seats hoping that you don’t accidently grab someone’s leg, once you’re seated in a tiled chair which is covered in what you thought was water (it’s sweat) you can finally relax…
If sweat is something you like (…) the steam room is the place for you, in fact they’ve probably got more sweat than steam there. So after my body was finished crying we got up and stumbled out.

As well as having steam rooms the sauna also had meditation rooms, basically it was a room with one sofa and some pretty lights. While walking in I noticed a couple sat together on the sofa at the back of the room, I get it you’re in “love” but is it really necessary to lie right across your boyfriend in a room that’s open to the public? I knew we’d have to sit down because the place was empty and every seat was vacant, it would’ve been less obvious to leave shouting
“I’m not staying in here because you two make it very awkward!” so we sat down.

After about two hours I felt i’d had my fair-share of serenity so took off my wizard’s cloak and left the sauna feeling relaxed and sweaty, something I don’t normally say around Christmas.
 

Your-sweaty-wizard-friend
Harr—I mean…
Tabitha s. xx 

Fire! Fire! Quick everyone grab your Laptops!

After a recent incident involving a fire alarm I realized that a lot of people (including me) don’t really know what to do in the event of an emergency. I spent a good deal of my childhood (and teen years) thinking or worrying about how to react in an emergency,
‘how do I get out of the house if there’s a fire’
‘how do I preform CPR’
I have since found out how to preform CPR; which has only made me concerned as I realize that now I might actually have to go through with kissing a complete stranger in order to save their life, I have also  worked out the fire-escape-plan for my house, this is to jump out my bedroom window onto a very small slanting roof and slide down onto our drive (I like to think that it will work.)
Last night I was out and about and all of a sudden the fire alarm went off in the building I was in, at first no one panicked or ran around in circles like they do in the movies, most people thought it was either a drill or a practical joke, but when we were told to vacate the building as they didn’t know what was wrong,
all hell broke loose; people were grabbing their belongings, you know the
essentials; bags, coats, laptops, yes that’s right someone actually stopped to pick-up their laptop, ‘forget about dying as long as I have my laptop I’ll be alright.’ Well anyway I immediately remembered what (I thought) we are all told
‘if there’s a fire don’t stop to get anything just leave’ so I didn’t, I left my bag behind but after seeing so many people taking forever to gather their stuff I figured I could just grab my coat, I tried to do this but (like usual) failed miserably, my coat tassel got caught on a chair and wouldn’t break free, so I was stood there madly yanking at my coat, while everyone was escaping the “fire” I can imagine someone was thinking:
“doesn’t she know you’re not supposed to take anything with you when there’s a fire” when in fact that’s exactly what I was thinking about everyone else. I did eventually evacuate the building (without my coat) we were told to stand outside… which we did… in the freezing cold… for five minutes. They finally figured out that there wasn’t an actual fire, we were allowed back inside and I was reunited with all my belongings.
So this whole experience brought a question to my mind, do people honestly think things like this:
“do I have time to grab my prised possessions, I mean I paid a lot of money for my IPod Touch” I mean is this a normal thing to do, am I the only one who thinks that living is a little bit more important than losing your connection to Facebook, people seem to care way too much about things they own, it’s life or death not Laptop or death (come to think of it…maybe it is, can I really go without it…)

But in all seriousness if your house is in flames please don’t stop to grab your IPhone

Your-slightly-sarcastic-highly-flammable-friend
Tabitha s. xx

the gym’s not working out

I remember the first time I went to the gym; I remember it because it was not at all pleasant (although I guess that isn’t exactly the point in going.) The first time I went there, I was rather nervous, as I’d never been there before (…but we already covered that.) I went in to have a ‘gym induction’ basically they test to see how far you can/should work out, in my case it wasn’t all that far. I left the café (which is a much nicer place to be if you ask me) and headed down-stairs into the gym. The gym I was going to was very up-to-date; all the machines had their own TV or computer, that’s right you could Google while you cycled (I used neither partially out of fear that I would break one and partially because I don’t think I could cope trying to both run on a treadmill for ten minutes and watch the BBC news at the same time.) maybe this is a normal thing at gyms but for me, my only ‘gym experience’ being running on a treadmill at home in our conservatory it was alien, I could barely use my IPod while running (I’d start picking up speed and then I’d get my arm caught in my earphone wire and before I knew it my IPod was on the floor) So I entered the room a few minutes early and the first thing I heard was a man screaming, you honestly would have thought he was being tortured, he was lifting weights (that were apparently quite heavy) in the corner, now I know the gym experience isn’t supposed to be enjoyable but really this man just pushing-it, It was rather off-putting and I wasn’t sure if I should get him some help, I realized I didn’t need to when I noticed that no one was turning to look at him they were just carrying on as though it were normal, I began to wonder if it would become ‘normal’ to me too if I started ‘working-out’ here. The personal trainer that I was given for the ‘gym induction’ only; I think we covered I’m not that rich, arrived finally after me standing awkwardly for five minutes trying to look like I knew where I was, his name was Bob (not his real name.) and he was in-fact very nice (I looked past the being late thing.) I started off on the treadmill he set it at quite a low speed and talked me through the equipment, then before leaving me to talk to another client he turned it up to a fast pace saying “if it gets too fast just turn it down” one thing he forget to mention before he left was, how exactly you  ‘turn it down’, so there I was running faster than I probably ever have before getting more and more tired, my only hope of stopping being to jump straight off the machine and risk embarrassing myself in front of a room full of people. I keep running while frantically searching the room for Bob…
*ten (very long, exhausting) minutes later*
BOB: “How was it?” Bob has finally returned, now this would be an opportune moment to tell him that he didn’t tell me how to slow it down but no instead I just say
ME: “yeah-it-was-fine” (BTW this ‘-’ stands for a breath I took)
BOB: “right, okay then we’ll move on to the cross-trainer” (in this sentence ‘-’ doesn’t stand for a breath Bob took) I almost cried, I couldn’t believe that there was actually more to do.  I have to admit that the cross-trainer was pretty fun, but after running at full-speed on a treadmill for ten minutes it lost its charm, after five. By the time I left the gym I was sweating, out of breath, tired and my whole body ached I was also feeling extremely sick due to my now very-low blood sugar, you can imagine how I felt about going back. When I got home I began to think ‘well, you did quite well you didn’t pass-out, throw-up or break-down in tears, you should be proud of yourself’ that was until I talked to my sister who told me that the lovely trainer Bob had spoken to her briefly about me before she started her ‘gym induction’ apparently he had asked if I was ‘alright, after my gym session as I had looked really red’, that’s just great… really, really marvellous, I hadn’t even thought about how red I looked I was too busy trying to keep up-right and I must have looked pretty awful for him to have said about it bearing in mind he did work there, at a gym and must have seen plenty of people looking dreadful. So it was actually worse than I’d first thought, not only had I embarrassed myself (without anyone knowing) but I’d also embarrassed myself and Bob knew (I spent many weeks after this incident avoiding any conversation with him.) I did keep going though (I lived down the humiliation) I even worked out how to use the TV’s, I don’t still go now as we don’t go the center anymore, but at least I can say I gave it a go.

Your-slim-yet-weirdly-unfit-friend
tabitha s. xx

a “proper” job

I have yet to have a “proper” job; and in case you’re wondering it’s not because I’m filthy-rich or can’t be bothered. Although I don’t have a job I do volunteer; which is really working without pay (so if you think about it I’m kind-of a saint.)

I volunteer at a charity shop, that means I spend hours in a small room, on my own sifting through other (generally older) people’s clothes, I bet you’re wishing you worked there with me, right?
Funnily enough I do actually like volunteering there, I’ve come across a lot of really interesting things while sorting through donations, I’ve also come across some rather… strange things too. On my second day I was asked to go through a bag of donated items that had been brought in, I was quite happy to do this as it meant I wouldn’t have to do till-work I began going through the things, at the start it was just clothes; the clothes were a bit strange, the kind-of thing no-one really wears anymore, but that’s not really all that surprising at a charity shop. So after going through all the clothes I started finding underwear… now I understand people think that charity-shops are a good way of recycling (or dumping your junk onto someone else) and we do sell new, never-worn, still-in-packet underwear, but think about it does anyone actually want to buy “used” underwear (I’m really hoping the answer is no.) I kept going through the underwear though picking everything up like it had the plague and finally got to the bottom of the bag (thank god.) I found broken bra straps there, I then got rather confused and began to question what this woman actually thought a charity-shop was.
A couple of weeks later I was asked to work in the shop (this was something I’d tried to avoid at ALL costs) but I was there to gain more confidence and gave it a go. To be honest with you it wasn’t all that bad, the woman I was working with even said
“She’s taken to it like a duck to water” now this was either the truth or I was just so terrible at everything she felt the need to praise me up, in my opinion either one could have been the case. If you’ve ever done till-work and you’re like me (in the sense of being incredibly shy) then you know it can be TERRIFYING! I don’t know but I imagine that where most people work they probably have a really up-to-date, fancy tills (that practically do everything for you) but the one at the charity-shop is just one advance from a calculator (that advance being its ability to print receipts) I was taught once how to use it, before I was thrust out into the shop. Charity-shops as you may have guessed are never really full; full is probably having five people in at once, but let me tell you when I was in that shop it felt like hundreds, I felt surrounded with no means of escape, I flinched every time the bell above the door rang and another happy customer entered, although there is one good point to till-work at a charity shop and that is the general customer is either an old person or a woman with small children, this is absolutely great as it means I never have to feel embarrassed about making stupid mistakes on the till and have plenty of really nice chats with the old women. Going back to something I just said (…wrote) ‘making stupid mistakes on the till’ it’s not even funny how many times I made mistakes on that till: I never remembered to enter the amount of money given to me so had to do the math myself (which is far from my strong point); I had an impatient couple waiting on me to count out there change once and in the end just chucked it in the till thinking (praying) that an old couple wouldn’t lie (but don’t worry it was only 50p and I’m sure they were telling the truth…) I also struggled with finding the right sized bag for the items being purchased; bags are brought in with items being donated and so we have different shapes and sizes, or at least we should; it seemed on the day I was there they were all far too big and I was awkwardly handing people  single t-shirts in bags that could have held fifty. I never really feel too terrible if (and when) I make these mistakes as I am only volunteering and the youngest volunteer there (I assume they all just take pity on me.)

So on a whole working at a charity-shop isn’t the most glamorous of jobs; I was handed a potty by a woman the other week; she assured me it was clean (but not, unused…) anyway what I was trying to say was that it’s really rewarding and it’s always nice to give back,
“so go stop by your local charity sho– nope I’m not doing that.”

Working at a charity shop has taught me one very important thing though:
‘One man’s trash isn’t always another man’s treasure’ seriously I don’t think the person who said that had ever worked in a charity-shop.

Your charitable friend
tabitha s. xx

happy birthday

Birthdays, from a confident person’s point-of-view they are wondrous things; a whole day all about you, gifts picked for you and if you’re extra lucky a birthday party, where everyone looks at you while singing a song dedicated just to you, but for me this is DEFINITELY not the case. Now, don’t get me wrong I’m greatful for all I get in life, it’s just the small fact of attention that I could do without, I’m quite a shy person you see, always have been so birthdays are a fairly dreaded time for me (although I’d like to keep having them, thanks G.)
Let me give you three simple reasons why:
1.  Gifts… probably the most painful experience on a birthday, let me elaborate, I don’t have a problem with getting things, it’s the actual “receiving ritual” of gifts I don’t’ like,
“How excited should I be?”
“Should I hug them?”
“How many times should I say ‘thank you’”
“Should I cry?”
Some of the questions running through my mind as I take/open the gift from the giver (okay maybe not so much the last one, but still…) I really never quite know how to react, usually the situation goes like this
*GIVER HANDS PRESENT TO ME*
GIVER: “HAPPY BIRTHDAY!”
ME: “uhh…oh. Ummm thank you” *smiles awkwardly*
ME THINKING: “AHHHH! What do I do!?! Should I open it!?! Just keep smiling, maybe they’ll go away! Oh, what do I do!?!?”
‘Sounds painful doesn’t it?’
2. Telling people what gifts you got… I assume most people have at least one person ask:
“So, what did you get?” at some point on their birthday, well if you’re me it seems like everyone rings up and asks. Now I LOVE talking to family and friends but trying to remember everything you got and slipping in about seven ‘thank-you’s’ for the gift they gave you is incredibly difficult, I still can never remember what it is I actually got despite only unwrapping the presents about half-an-hour prior to the phone call, I also struggle with thinking I’ve not said thank you enough and keep thinking ‘Don’t forget to say thank you’ my most recent birthday (which was today) I spoke to someone (not saying who) and I got to the end of the brief conversation and realized I hadn’t said thank you so instead of saying
“OH, I’m sorry I haven’t said thank you…” I decided I would try and slip it in at the end and this is how that went:
CALLER: “Alright then, have a nice day”
ME THINKING: “oh no, they’re hanging up, quick say thank you”
ME: “yep okay then”
CALLER: “Bye”
ME: “…okay…thankyouforthegiftbye”
*PHONE DIAL TONE BEEPS BEFORE I FINISH*
(yep I said it so quick that it became one whole word and even if the caller hadn’t been putting the phone down at that moment they probably still wouldn’t have been able to decipher what I’d actually said)
3.Birthday party’s…If it were up to me I wouldn’t of had a birthday party since I was seven, they are probably one of the most awkward situations to be in EVER, that is if it’s your own. It’s a whole party centred around you, everyone’s looking at you and the phrases
“the birthday girl should go first!”
“It’s the birthday girl’s turn!”
“Come on birthday girl!” ring around in your ears (unless you’re a boy, then it’s obviously…birthday boy.)
Then later on comes the time to blow out the candles *gulp* everyone gathers around you, they stare as they sing and you’re forced to smile down at your cake wait for it all to end, then when they’re finished you can blow out the candles and wish for one thing

“next year, please let it be less awkward.”

Your older-yet-still-awkward friend
Tabitha s. xx