Birthday Pig

“Should I wear these sweatpants?” I asked.

“You could. But make your hair high. Like how I like it.” Claudine said in a reverse psychology ploy to get me to dress up nicer than usual to ‘casually’ go to dinner at our friends apartment last night.

Mercifully her ploy worked and I got more dolled up than usual.
High hair and all.

—-

“Happy nearly birthday!” Kim said, as she greeted us at the front door.

We walked upstairs babbling greetings and the usual hosting salutations, until I was silenced as we stepped into the living room. I found myself  greeted by an extensive spread of luscious food and celebratory drinks (chilling in vast, icy buckets)

A sea of the most beautiful, smiling friend faces, calmly whispered “surprise” in unison. You know, on account of not wanting to startle the heart patient. With dinner-plate-wide eyes I immediately spun around to ask both Claudine and Kim

“Did you know about this?”
(As if a full-scale party could suddenly and magically materialise while she went to answer the door.)

We all laughed at the bullshit things you say when you are suddenly shocked.

I was gob-smacked and thrilled and honestly felt like the most loved pig-valve this side of the universe. I was very surprised, in the best way possible. And shockingly I didn’t fall down like I usually do when I get startled.

It was fucking perfect.

Seeing all of those impeccable faces, spending time catching up, sipping the most insanely delicious cocktails and reconnecting with each and every person there. Made me feel like the luckiest human to ever be alive.

I received the most amazing, thoroughly ridiculous presents and cards. Because I am, at my core, a thoroughly ridiculous person, and my friendships know me too well.

For the endless stream of love and wonderfulness.
I yell; Thank you, Thank you, Thank you!!!
I love you with all my…pig.