My birthday week came and went, and I am finally becoming myself again. Much as I act the part of my perfect diva during my birthday week, the truth is I become the hottest of hot messes during the week of my birthday for no good reason. I don’t stress out about getting older, I don’t worry about what milestones I didn’t reach, or blah, blah, blah… I clearly don’t have an issue with presents or adoration or other fun stuff; there is no good reason for me to get the way I do around my birthday.

I chalk it up to a severe case of The Mean Reds. Before I explain what The Mean Reds are I have to pause a moment and give serious credit to Truman Capote for coining the term in Breakfast at Tiffany’s; it may have been his greatest contribution to American literature. And what are these Mean Reds? I think it’s best to go to the source Truman Capote’s most endearing character, Miss Holly Golightly.

Holly Golightly: You know those days when you get the mean reds? 

Paul Varjak: The mean reds, you mean like the blues? 

Holly Golightly: No. The blues are because you're getting fat and maybe it's been raining too long, you're just sad that's all. The mean reds are horrible. Suddenly you're afraid and you don't know what you're afraid of. Do you ever get that feeling?

That is how I get from time to time around the time of my birthday for no good reason at all. If I’m distracted, meaning I am busy doing fun things I was usually keep The Mean Reds at bay, but it doesn’t always work. This year was no different, and it was crazy that I felt anything other than sunshine and smiles all the day long. Check it out –

I spent my birthday weekend fabulously!!

I took the day off Friday for Six Flags and feeding giraffes I got to enjoy my nephew’s birthday party. My stylist gave me a fabulous cut. I had a wonderful birthday dinner by the sea, or maybe the bay. I got amazing FAB gifts including… TA-DA the iPad I had been subtly hinting at for weeks!!!

So what that problem?

What is the problem indeed! While I was trying to figure this out I put myself in as much of a time out as I reasonably could considering it was my birthday week meaning there was a certain obligation to be social.

While I was being petulant, childish and unpleasant overall my voice of reason broke through. My voice of reason always makes sense, but it always asks such inconvenient questions. This time it wanted to know, "What exactly were you expecting from this birthday?" Ummmm, ummmm... I hadn't given it much thought.

I realized I felt like Pippin after he returned from war disillusioned because he thought there would be more plumes. (NOTE: this is a Broadway theater reference for those who don't know what I mean.)

Yes!! That's what I expected more plumes!!! Lots of plumes, in every shape size and color!! I wasn't really sure what I needed them for, but that's what I needed - PLUMES!

My voice of reason spoke up again, and if voices of reason had eyes mine would have been rolling hers.
 "Plumes? Really?"
 "Uh... Sure it's a special day."
 "It's a special day to you, and maybe the people who love you who haven't been scared off, but your birthday is no more special than anyone else's."

Wow!!! My voice of reason is all about tough love. I could shut her up with a cocktail or two, by the way...

Still there was a point to the harshness.

I was wasting time being entirely dreadful when I could be spending my time embracing all the wonderful people in my life and enjoying my FAB weekend and most excellent presents.

I was being such a little monster (inwardly) that if I had made birthday resolutions to cut out sarcasm and snark I would have blown it in a few hours.

I guess my voice of reason had a valid point, and maybe I ought to listen. Hopefully I can remember all this if The Mean Reds surface for my next birthday.