Yep, I’m a 26-year-old. Yep, I had a poop-themed birthday party. Yep, there was a pin-the-poop game and poop-shaped cookies. Yep, I absolutely loved it.
They say maturity comes with age. A statement I totally disagree with and also who the fuck is “they”? Maturity is obviously not a capability I used to choose the theme for my 26th birthday party.
Looking back at past birthday parties, some of the themes I can actually remember range from Mini Mouse and Cinderella to the pink Power Ranger. I specifically recall the pink Power Ranger party very clearly because I had a huge berrinche (or bitch fit) when I opened one the gifts and discovered it was a YELLOW Power Ranger Barbie instead of a PINK Power Ranger Barbie.
If you were wondering whether I’ve always been the way that I am — outspoken, assertive and … complain-y as fuck — the answer is yes, this absolutely is 26 years in the making. But don’t worry, I’m about 98% positive that my mom Mexican-disciplined me for saying I wanted the pink Power Ranger Barbie, not the yellow one, in front of all of my birthday party guests … loudly … and possibly with tears in my eyes.
I know what you’re thinking. “Valeria, you brat.” Honestly, the story is just hilarious to me now. My 7-year-old self had no notion of self awareness and my present self just sends constant hindsight apologies to whoever had to witness that. But I was just passionate about the pink Power Ranger at the time! I’d also like to point out that I hate pink now.
Back to my poop party. Inspiration came from 3-year-old Audrey, who apparently is also into poop, and my friend, Mariel (pictured below), who sent me the article and has shared many a Gchat conversations during work hours about poop with me.
Also, major shout out to Monica, who baked the absolutely fucking delicious poop cookies. Trust me when I say no form of actual excrement was used in the making of these chocolate espresso cookies. In retrospect, I ate SO many cookies that night and I was also on medication because I had gotten sick earlier in the week…but NO RAGRETS.
What better way to celebrate involuntarily entering my late 20s than by having a birthday party with a totally inappropriate and immature theme?! Sounds to me like I’m living my best life. Also, POOP.