Happy Birthday to me...

Well, here I am. Thirty-twelve. Oh, alright then, 42.

Sorry, you didn't hear that?

42. That's FOURTY TWO in old money.

Am I downcast? Well, perhaps a little.

Not because I feel particularly old, I don't. I mean, when Madonna is practically flashing her bits for Louis Vuitton at 50, Jerry Hall has just been signed to... do something or other, and Demi Moore is still keeping Ashton interested, well, what's 42? Nothing. Nada. I am a mere slip of a girl, in fact. Though, wouldn't it be nice if the pressure to look fantastic - not that I do, you understand, not like them - eased up just a little? I mean, if Madge can keep it all toned and taut at 103 (or whatever), letting it all hang out is not quite the option it used to be, is it? But no, that fact might make me a little disgruntled on my way to the gym, but not downcast.

Perhaps, then, it's because I feel more than a little overstuffed. Sis and I were rolling around on the sofa earlier on, bemoaning the lack of carpet in our flat . A nice bit of Axeminster would have made lying prone on the floor after eating too much cake far more comfortable.

I probably shouldn't have eaten all the cake I have today, really. Thankyou Footballer's Knees, it was (note the 'was') sinfully delicious . Still, it's only your birthday once a year, right? Unless you're the Queen. Then you get two birthdays. And I'm queen of this house, so two it is.

And then of course there are my son's birthdays. I gave birth to them (the clue's in the name, 'birth-day'), so dammit, I deserve cake on their special day. I never got why the children get the presents and not the mums; we did - and do - the hard work, right? So that's 4 birthdays.

And then of course there's Husband's birthday. I made the cake (and the lunch, dinner, bed, and the home), so obviously I get to eat it too. (Is anyone keeping a count on this? We're up to 5...).

Then of course there are all the other birthday's that don't get celebrated in quite the same way. The date I met Husband. The date we first kissed. The date we - well, you get the point. The date we got married. What you do you mean, these are called 'anniversaries'? They certainly call for patisserie and baked goods as far as I'm concerned. So, I guess that's around 9.

And as Christmas, Easter and Halloween all demand good cake-age, let's round it up to 12 for good measure .

So, one birthday a month - that sounds good to me.

Actually, I just worked it out. It's not the excess cake. The reason I'm feeling a tad downcast is that in all my maaaaany maaaaany years of multiple birthdays, one thing hasn't changed.

I may be 42, but I still don't have the willpower to not eat all 12 months birthdays' ration of cake in one day.