In case you didn’t see news accounts of the dramatic full arc quadruple rainbow appearing over the hospital where I was born, or you didn’t witness one of the tremendous parades held in my honor, today is my birthday. Or as it’s known in my head every morning, my personal best record for consecutive days alive. Since it’s a nice number that’s easily divisible by five (my favorite kind of number), I thought I’d take you on a walk down memory lane.
Join me, won’t you, for Jenny Trout: 35 Years of Excellence.
[This is an image heavy post. Click the “read more” with caution]
From my earliest years, I was an exhibitionist:
But also a fashion-forward style icon:
So I guess I could have been born into the Kardashian clan. Instead, I was born to some Irish people:
(That’s five generations, with me in the middle, swathed in the itchiest lace Jo-Anne Fabrics can supply, fully assuming a lifetime of Catholic guilt).
And some people as Russian as Vladimir Putin shirtless and riding a bear while complaining about how nobody has it as rough as he does:
(I’m the teenager on the far left.) (If you follow me on twitter, the man on the far right is the Russian gentleman known as the grandfather who routinely lets himself into my house to yell, “Jenny! I’m having a donut!” before taking said donut and leaving.)
As a child, I enjoyed nature:
but now I’m more of a “you absolutely can’t make me go outside and if you ask I will scream so loud and so long that a whole nation will hear me and rise up in force to drive back your evil and also allergies and mosquitos.”
I love dogs:
Cats are okay.
(Why didn’t anyone help that poor cat?!)
As I grew into a teenager, I began to develop my eccentric sense of humor:
I thought Beavis and Butthead was the pinnacle of hilarity:
I’ve been through a hippie phase:
A musical theatre phase (I’m the nun in the middle):
A goth mom phase:
A successful author phase:
and a not-so-successful, incredibly jaded, sad author phase:
But my amazing husband has been with me through the good and the bad:
I’ve got an awesome family, who don’t mind that I ruin all our vacation photos by blinking:
And I have a whole bunch of friends and you amazing people on the internet who get me through every single day just by being there, looking at my silly blogs, reading my smutty books, reading my not-as-smutty books, and generally being amazing. So thank you guys for that.
Now here’s to me, in my 35th year of awesomeness:
May I have 135 more. Or more than that. I mean, with medial science the way it is. Also, I’m scared of death. Like, terrified. Oh god, I don’t want to be thirty-five. IT’S NOT MY TIME! I HAVE SO MUCH MORE I WANT TO DO WITH MY THIRTIES! I’M MARCHING TOWARD DEATH WITH EVERY BREATH I TAKE AND THERE’S NOTHING I CAN DO ABOUT IT! AAAAAAAAAUUUUUUUUUUUGGGGGGHHHH BIRTHDAAAAAAY WHYYYYYYYYYY