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I wish all of my friends were seven years old. Remember when you were seven? Remember how you looked forward to your birthday for a month, counting the days until you could blow out the candles on your frosting-smothered cake, tear open your pile of presents, and act as obnoxious as you wanted for 24 hours? What happened to that enthusiasm?

Dreading birthdays seems to be all the rage these days. After all, what’s to celebrate anymore? Since we’ve been told we’re all insulin-resistant and allergic to sugar and flour, we’ve stopped eating cake (at least in public), it’s not politically correct to ask for presents after you’re old enough to drive to the mall and get them yourself, and who wants to be reminded that another year has gone by with goals left unattained?

I think that unfulfilled dreams are one of the main reasons people hate birthdays so much. Too many of us had some sort of timeline that we had planned to adhere to – marriage by 25, kids by 27, dream career by 30, millionaire by 35… you get the picture. As numbers 26, 27, 28 and 29 tick by with no man in sight and a job title that still contains the word “assistant,” the last thing we want to celebrate is getting a year older.

But youth isn’t about calendar age. I know people in their twenties and thirties who think – and act – like they are one doctor’s appointment away from dentures and Depends.  Conversely, I know people over 50 who can’t seem to shake their mischievous inner children.  That is why I am convinced that youth is entirely about attitude and lifestyle. Cases in point:

Attitude:

You’ve had a mental timeline since you were a teenager that you would be married and have children on a rigid, society-approved schedule.  Now you’re facing your thirtieth birthday with no Prince Charming in sight, or you found him and he had some hygiene habits you weren’t prepared to live happily ever after with.  Try changing your “momentous events must be scheduled” mentality, because in reality you have no control over the outcome.  I’m suggesting that you set some goals that can be achieved by your actions, not someone else’s. And leave birthdays out of the formula – save those for celebrating, not measuring!

Lifestyle:

Your body feels like it’s ninety years old – you can’t do any physical activity without spending the next day nursing sore muscles, and you haven’t touched your toes since you were six months old. This can happen at 25 or 50 – so is it really your age, or what you have chosen to do with those years that is the real culprit? 

If you’re going to despair over your next birthday, at least be real about what you’re despairing about. If you haven’t lived up to your goals for yourself, take some time to re-evaluate. Are they reasonable, and does your lifestyle support attaining them? If you feel your bones creaking under the weight of your neglected body, consider respecting yourself enough to prepare for longevity, not just surviving until you meet the next deadline at work.

Or don’t despair at all. I think we should try getting a little bit excited about our next birthdays. Make a list of the presents you want, and when people ask, tell them. Ask someone to throw you a party, or throw it yourself. State your age proudly, and let everyone envy your youthful exuberance.

And for goodness sake, eat some cake.