“EEK ! ! !” My shriek tore across the land in piercing sonic waves that caused babies to wake crying and dogs to howl. I fell across my bed, weeping piteously. It was here! The day I had dreaded… the day I had most feared had arrived!

The ringing of my telephone interrupted my orgy of tears. Snatching it up, I snarled into the receiver, “Leave me alone!”

“Hi, Mom. I heard your annual shriek. Happy Birthday,” my beautiful-but-totally-insensitive daughter said cheerfully.

“How can you say that to me?” I howled. “After all I’ve done for you…”

“Oops! Sorry, Mom, but at least I didn’t say which birthday it is,” my sweet-but-un-funny kid giggled. “Get a grip, Mom. Today is your birthday, not the end of world.”

“Are you sure, Dear? Somehow it would make me feel so much better if I knew you didn’t consider me old,” I asked tearfully.

“No! You’re not old, Mother. You’re a young vibrant, beautiful woman, and… Ha, ha, ha…” my creepizoid child roared with laughter. After a few moments, she regained control of herself. “Sorry, Mom, but there was no way I could say that with a straight face. Of course, you’re old. Everybody in your generation is; so why do you make such a big deal of it?”

To prove what a good sport I am, I decided to let my daughter have the last word. I hung up the phone and wandered into the bathroom.

How could this have happened to me, I wondered, staring into the bathroom mirror? It seemed like yesterday I was only eighteen. Well, maybe a bit more than yesterday, but its not like I had lived a life of debauchery. The evidence of my sagging body parts proved that I had diligently obeyed, at least, the law of gravity.

Sighing in sad resignation, I began to apply the first of several layers of camouflaging foundation to my face. Maybe it didn’t give me the dewy fresh complexion the ads promised, I thought ruefully, but it at least kept my face from falling apart.

The ringing telephone told me my day wasn’t going to get, much better. “Hi, Sis. Happy Birthday,” my caring-but-foolhardy sister chirped happily.

“Leave me alone,” I snarled.

“Why do you always carry on like this? Every year, it’s the same routine. The annual shriek; the annual suicide attempt. Then people give you presents and you are happy again.”