I’m gonna sit down, write this and post it before I get complacent / diverted / bored / get back to reading…err…working. I’ve decided, no more editing of posts. I’m gonna do it the Adi way – sit, write and post – as easy as that. (Yea rite. I continued this post, from the 3^rd paragraph on, 12 days after I started it)

Ok, so, I celebrated my 25^th birthday on the 11^th of July. As opposed to all the ‘oh you’re getting old!’ talk, I actually feel a lot lot younger than I anticipated I would. The tell-tale signs of ageing aren’t lost on me. Apart from that annoying stray white hair right on the tip of my head, my increasingly failing memory or those nasty wrinkles under my baggy eyes…uh, ok, I am exaggerating there, I’ve always had dark circles and wrinkled eyes – blame it on my genes or my glasses or uh, pollution (???) or whatever. But, my point is – I feel the same, if not younger. I still like the same stuff – stickers, pencil boxes, pens and all kindsa colourful, neon-y, swirly stuff. I still cry when my parents yell at me, I’ve been sporting two bright pink hello kitty bandages on my pinkies on either feet (the result of the latest spurt of physical activity in my life – which is a result of my bludgeoning belly thanks to inactivity – thanks to my back pain – thanks to over-activity in the form of gymming. Yup, some vicious cycle that is). Well, bottom line is – I feel good.

The day of the birthday was fun. I had a great time with family and friends, awesome food, awesome moments and awesome gifts. I got accessories, perfume, Prathi and the girls with their handmade card plastered with my smiling face all over the cover, Pp gave me a cd of a concert of Bryan Adams that I still haven’t gotten over gawking at, the international entry was the official Women’s towel of Wimbledon, personalized with my initials P.R shipped all the way from Wimbledon, courtesy the gang, a mind blowing poster of MJ, lotsa love and lotsa blessings

They cut a cake for me at office – part of some crappy tradition where they invite ‘one and all to coming for the cake cutting for the celebrating of the Preeti’s birthday on the 11^th of July, which falling on Saturday so cutting on Monday’. It’s not so much the language that was annoying but the fact that we have to invite people on our own (those on our floor and any others we want) to come for ‘my cake cutting please’. 3 of the people I know did the usual smearing-cake-on-the-face routine, which trust me, has gone quite stale now. Especially if the cake is one of those buttery cream cakes that leaves an after-effect that even steel wool wouldn’t be able to scrape off. And NO, that doesn’t make the skin glow and is NOT a substitute for a facial. The cutting and plastering is, but naturally, followed by lotsa smirking and the mandatory photograph. (Please look at photos below) But heck, they cut a cake. And even gave me a ‘family cake’ to take home.

Be nice now and wish me, however belated it is. And gimme some goodwill, I could do with it.

Go on, I’m waiting.