A Birthday Chart that Explains Everything

Birthdays. We all have them. We all love them –– at first, anyway. Somehow, we learn to dread them only to eventually learn to love them again… if we’re lucky, that is. The key is to think through the birthdays that aren’t yours.

This is how it works:

Birth

When you’re born, you have no idea what’s going on while everyone else’s enthusiam registers a full-blown 100 on the hoopla scale.

It’s a miracle, really. There you are, taking up space, breathing, eating and pooping. Wow. Life. Look at you–– you’re tiny and you might grow up to do something significant. That’s worth celebrating. You have your mom’s eyes and your dad’s nose. Your parents have contributed to the survival of the species.

Phase One — The Age of Birthday Tolerance

Right around age three, you can fully process what’s going on but you need help. You’re still cute. It’s funny when your little frame passes gas. You can tear through birthday wrapping paper by yourself and that’s a hoot. A special day all about you comes once a year? Hell yes! People care about your birthday an awful lot (purple line), but not nearly as much as your juvenile self does (red line). Toward the end of this phase you’ll let go of the long birthday gift wish lists. There are hoopla peaks at Sweet 16, 18 and 21 because everyone is excited at the thought of you getting a job and getting the hell out of the house.

Phase Two — The Decline

You’re finally on your own. Your look-at-me-I’m-going-to-dominate-the-world attitude wears on everyone at your first, second and third jobs. You finally read the room and realize that weekend birthday benders in your 30s are somewhat pathetic. Birthdays still sort of matter, but you find that everyone makes a bigger deal out of St. Patty’s Day, Cinco de Mayo and your favorite sports teams going deep into the playoffs.

The Reality of Age 39

You don’t care much for turning 39. Your friends don’t think it’s a particularly big deal, either. You’re scared of crossing the threshold of getting-old-hood. You find gray nose hairs on a regular basis and stray whiskers in your freakin’ eyebrows, of all places. You realize you’re wearing the style of jeans that people in their 20s make fun of. Everyone’s had enough of these annual celebrations about you, quite frankly. Your friends and family will, however, start caring again from here on out –– especially in years divisible by five and ten.

Phase Three — The Birthday Valley of Despair

Wtf. Why do friends and family insist on reminding you that lordy, lordy, now you’re 40? Thanks a lot, right? More fanfare comes at 45 and then holy moly will they make a big deal out out of you turning 50. The hoopla picks up steadily from here on out with extra emphasis every five and ten years because the math is easy to figure out and no one wants to razz you with parabola-esque intensity every single year.

Note what happens on the chart at age 75. You accept that your birthday is a big deal worthy of a bit of a reflective celebration. You’re not dead yet, and that’s awesome. You begin to care about these milestones almost as much as your loved ones do. They insist on celebrating your not-dead-yetness and you’re beginning to appreciate it. You begin to fart out loud again but unfortunately, it’s still frowned upon.

Phase Four — The Plateau

Most of us won’t hit 90, but those of us who do will proudly accept the stink that’s being made about it. Speaking of stink, you can now fart out loud in public and everyone will have a nice chuckle about it. In fact, you can get away with doing pretty much anything you want to. Except driving, of course –– your skills just aren’t what they used to be. You care about making it through another year and everyone else does, too. Heck, you might make the news if you make it to 100 — that number is divisible by 5, 10, 25 and 50! At 100, for the first time in your life everyone, including you, appreciates your birthday at the full 100-level hoopla factor. This continues every year you can manage to hang on.

Then, at some point, you die.

So What?

When it’s up to you to care about someone else’s birthday –– when you’re the purple line –– maybe it’s worth thinking through your commitment to hoopla. How hard is it for you to meet the high hoopla expectations of younger people –– the red line –– and what’s the net effect of that effort?

And when people are trudging through the Birthday Valley of Despair wouldn’t it make sense to commit to keeping your purple hoopla efforts high? There’s no guarantee you’ll all make it to the century-mark plateau, ya know.