Jacket Goals.

As I have grown into the notion of adult birthdays, I have remained of the opinion that your birthday should feel special, unique in whatever way the birthday girl (or boy) would wish. There are 364 days of the year that are ordinary – why shouldn’t we each get one 24-hour period that’s tailored to our whims and desires?

And so, it came to be that this year, I put a lot of pressure on my 38th birthday.

Of course, I already know this lesson - that sometimes the days we put the most pressure on are the days that can be the hardest to live up to their potential. And while my birthday turned a corner and rounded out well, I will admit I woke that morning in September with two annoying visitors, panic and anxiety. My focus lately has been a lot about soul searching; about what I would like to plan next in my personal story as I round out the last few years of my thirties. Sometimes I am guilty of getting ahead of myself, of forgetting to acknowledge all of the teachings the yogi in me knows, of realizing my attention belongs in the moment. So, there it was, my birthday, and I sort of had a plan for the day but not completely and I wanted to ring in 38 perfectly, though what does that actually even mean anyway?

Over coffee, as I mentally pleaded with anxiety and panic to take a hike, I recalled my other personal tradition. I owed myself a birthday present.

Before I go further, you dear reader, should know about my Wishlist shopping. I wrote about it awhile back as one of the ways I can actually afford to shop at some of my favorite stores. The Wishlist isn’t necessarily a silver bullet. Sometimes stock sells out before it’s marked down or the seasons change and it seems ludicrous to purchase something that can’t be worn for another six months or – and this potential snag is the worst in my opinion – the desired item never goes on sale.

Such is the case with a leather biker jacket that I have coveted for years.  By all circumstances this jacket is overpriced and not at all practical. But. Still. I found her years ago, added her to my Wishlist and then I’d check in on her every few months, eyes peeled for some sort of flash-sale mark-down to no avail. Ever. I had pretty much resigned myself to only admiring this beauty on the interwebs.

However, after a series of false starts and internal debate and plenty of hemming and hawing and a “donation to the jacket fund” gift from my parents, panic and anxiety took a back seat, I decided it was now or never to pull the jacket trigger, and I finally marched myself right over to Newbury Street and purchased that sucker on my 38th birthday.

And guess what? I even managed to get it on sale.

Damn right I did.