I've had youth and, if my aging memory doesn't fail me, it seems I spent most of my time sitting around wishing I was older. Birthday or not, I'm not going to dye my hair. I'm not going to join a healthclub. And the only plastic surgery I'll ever undergo will likely involve a pair of scissors and a maxed out Home Depot card. I wouldn't mind having a red Miata and a cel phone, though.
Every man needs a toy or two.
My apathy for birthdays has nothing to do with aging. I just don't see the point in celebrating the anniversary of what was undoubtedly the most traumatic day of my life. Thankfully, God blocks the memory of our births from our minds because He knows it would be too much for us mere mortals to handle. We blame our mothers for enough already. We can only imagine how it must have been.