I went to a baby shower today. A new baby! A new life! A wonderful reason to gather with friends, eat cake, play ridiculous games, and celebrate.
But it got me thinking.
Why aren’t we celebrating ALL the things worth celebrating?
Seriously. Who decided which life events get balloons, cake, and a gift registry?
Years ago, I attended a breast reduction party. Yes, you read that correctly. A BREAST REDUCTION PARTY.
Everyone was instructed to bring the guest of honor a new bra.
And I thought it was flipping BRILLIANT!
This woman was celebrating the fact that she could finally stand upright without carrying two bowling balls around on her chest. Her shoulders were getting a vacation, her back was filing for retirement, and her bra straps would no longer need to be reinforced with industrial-grade equipment.
THAT deserves cake.
And now we’re seeing more divorce parties.
GOOD!
Not every divorce is something to celebrate, but when someone finally escapes a toxic relationship? Honey, break out the champagne, order the cake, and put the divorce papers in a frame.
Sometimes the happiest ending isn’t finding Prince Charming.
Sometimes it’s realizing Prince Charming was actually a clown and returning him to the circus.
But why stop there?
Celebrate getting the new job.
Celebrate QUITTING the job that made you miserable.
Celebrate paying off your car.
Celebrate surviving menopause without ending up on an episode of Dateline.
Celebrate turning 55 and still having absolutely no idea what you want to be when you grow up.
Celebrate the little victories. The big victories. The completely ridiculous victories that nobody else understands.
You don’t need a wedding, a baby, or a diploma to justify gathering your favorite people around a cake, a cupcake or a cake-pop.
And while we’re on the subject of celebrating…
Can we talk about celebrations of life?
You know, the parties people throw AFTER someone dies?
Everyone gets together, tells wonderful stories, laughs, cries, eats delicious food, and talks about how fabulous the person was.
Meanwhile, the guest of honor is DEAD.
How rude is THAT?!
There’s a beautiful picture of them sitting off to the side. Probably one they wouldn’t have chosen themselves.
Everyone is having a wonderful time reminiscing, and the ONE PERSON who would probably love hearing all those stories isn’t there!
I’m not knocking celebrations of life. They’re meaningful, and they bring comfort to the people left behind.
But why not have one while we’re still ALIVE?
I want it noted for the record…
I WANT MINE WHILE I’M ALIVE!
I’m serious!
I want the party. I want the food. I want the drinks. I want the stories. I want to hear all the wonderful things people have to say about me.
And I want to be there to CORRECT THEM when they tell the stories wrong!
Why should I miss the best party thrown in my honor?!
I want to pick my own picture, thank you very much. I want to wear something fabulous. I want to laugh until my face hurts. And if someone wants to stand up and tell everyone how much I’ve meant to them, I’d really prefer to hear it while I still have a pulse.
Save the tears for another day. Bring the champagne.
Because here’s the thing…
We spend so much time celebrating beginnings and endings that we forget to celebrate the wonderful, ridiculous, messy stuff happening in between.
So throw the party. Buy the cake. Celebrate the boobs, the divorce, the promotion, the fresh start, or absolutely nothing at all.
And for the love of all things fabulous, don’t wait until I’m dead to tell me how wonderful I am.
I fully intend to be the life of the party at my celebration.
Not the picture on the table.
You should be expecting your invitations. 📨
Until next time…xoxo
Your Fairy Groundmother has spoken. 🪄
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