Truthfully, on the day after my birthday I really believed I'd woken up with wrinkles. But as it turned out, I'd just fallen asleep with my make-up on and decided to smush my face into my pillow so as to make myself look as unattractive as possible. At least there's still part of me that's lazy enough to be classed as a teenager. I can't remember if this was also the night I had a dream where my neighbours ginger cat bit me on the face. Not that this is relevant, but as a certified old person, I'm now supposed to bore you by going off on strange tangents.
The day itself was obviously a lot of fun - as birthdays should be! I was awoken at six in the morning by an interesting rendition of 'happy birthday' sung by my mother; who also, being a total joker, decided to sing the line "happy birthday to someoneeeeeee" instead of inserting her own daughters name. Classic hilarity from Mrs Potter. We then preceded to play a game I would like to call "Mum can you stop telling me how much you think I'm going to like each present it's practically the middle of the night and my eyes aren't able to fully open". My parents gave me a silver star charm for my Thomas Sabo bracelet; receiving this gift is a moment I will probably always remember, obviously because it's beautiful but also because when I opened it, my mum looked me straight in the eye and went "because you are a star". Couldn't sing my name in the happy birthday song though, could she?
This all went out the window when four days later I picked out a truly gorgeous rose gold Marc Jacobs watch that would be, as we say in our family, my 'main present'. I'm still so in awe of it's beauty that I keep forgetting it is actually a time telling device. Brains AND beauty, what a catch. And just to blow this whole thing even more out of the water (I don't think I've used that saying right), the rose gold on the watch matches my rose gold iPhone 5S. I cannot tell you how much of a first world white girl I feel. It's an exhilarating experience to say the least.
Once I'd got past my midday "oh my god there's something wrong with my knee I can't move I've officially reached old age this is the end" anxiety attack, I was able to continue celebrating myself - with more presents (shout-out to my adorable best friends who proved once again just how well they know me *cough* chocolate fingers *cough*, and to my boyfriend for the really sweet gifts of my favourite things - including a new MASSIVE Yankee candle that the pyromaniac inside me can't wait to get back to uni and burn baby burn), and a Smarties birthday cake - courtesy of my boyfriends family because they're the sweetest people ever. Sadly the day ended with me in tucked up in bed early, ready for work the next day - and for those of you thinking to yourself that I would've done the same thing even if I didn't have work early in the morning, to you I say, shhhhhhh.
Now it's a whole week later and the world looks no different (which is good because it means I'm not losing my sight), and to be honest, I don't really feel any different. I still have trouble getting up in the morning, I seem to be getting worse at making toast, and I'm just as atrocious at driving as ever. I did voluntarily clean my room yesterday though so make of that what you will.
Thank you so much to everyone who wished me a happy birthday and/or sent me cards and gifts; you guys are the best.
~ Eleanor xo
PS. You'll be pleased to know I completed 9 of the 19 things I'd planned to do this year. Most disappointing of all was my failure to keep my cactus plant alive. Better luck next time. Maybe.
