The most overrated holiday: birthdays. I mean come on people! Why are we celebrating the first day we were naked to the world? It’s not like we even remember the day. We could think it was in the winter, but for all we know we could have a summer birthday. We are just living by something typed on our birth certificate, which is really just a piece of paper, and two people who “say” that they were there… our mother and father. Where is the proof that it was really THAT DAY that we were born on?
So I guess I just don’t really understand the fascination and all the count-downs to one day a year that is pretty much pointless. I mean, it wasn’t an accomplishment on our part. We really didn’t do anything. It makes more sense for the mother to celebrate being able to push a 6-pound human being out of her and still be alive to tell the story. For a kid to celebrate their birthday without their mother’s name on the cake could sort of be a slap in the face to their mother’s pain.
It’s just one day a year that it is socially acceptable to basically say “Hey! Look and me and thank me for something I didn’t do! Sing to me and give me presents and cake!”
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