So, my birthday's this coming Saturday, and if I could have my wish granted in advance, it would be that the day pass unnoticed — no cards, no cake, no opening sentence in a newspaper column announcing it.

My aversion to my birthday (and, certainly, to yours as well) doesn't stem from any hackneyed fear of growing old. I actually can't wait to be old, if for no other reason than to see how my gastrointestinal issues will manage to top themselves.

Rather, it's that this is the one "holiday," if you can classify a birthday as such, that never fails to prove a major letdown in all its phases: the lead-up, the actual day and the aftermath. We'd all be free of several weeks of angst and disappointment if instead of having to celebrate a birthday each year, we could track our age by quietly acquiring a new ring around ourselves a la an emotionally stable tree.

The Lead-Up: Depending on one's level of self-absorption, a person typically begins contemplating an upcoming birthday two to six weeks beforehand. Shaquille O'Neal begins 51 weeks beforehand, but, in fairness, it takes the laborers a long time to build his annual Egyptian-style pyramid gift to himself.

We spend this pre-birthday period fretting over how another year has gone by without accomplishing much (in my case, convincing my wife we should eat every meal at home off disposable paper plates). We start to get angry at our loved ones for not obsessively following our hobbies and knowing what newly released products match them.

And because no one's throwing us parties at the Chuck E. Cheese anymore, we begin the process of planning how we want our friends to celebrate ourselves. Although, if it's a Big Birthday coming up, we may become concerned that a surprise party is in the works. (Only a few people actually like surprise birthday parties in their honor; they are Joshua Kuller, of Menlo Park, Calif.; Andrew Kassakian, of Wrentham, Mass.; and Colin Carballo, of Perrysburg, Ohio.)

The Actual Day: Mom and Dad call. It's nice, until we realize they're really just doing a victory lap for having created us. And then we hear from the same two friends who call every year. These should be the friends whom we appreciate the most, but, oddly, they're the cause of more resentment than those who always forget. "Oh, what a surprise. It's Ted again, right on schedule." We know Ted isn't calling so much to wish us a happy birthday as he is to pat himself on the back for another birthday successfully jotted down in his calendar.

As the day goes by, feeling a growing sense of loneliness, we keep expecting something different to happen. Like maybe our cubicle chair will feel like a more expensive model. The worst mistake we can make is to break down and start telling everyone around us that it's our birthday; it just makes everyone feel awkward. "Oh, well, hey, happy birthday! Here are some, uh, Post-It notes."

Then nighttime comes. It's time for a dinner out, where we hate it if "Happy Birthday" is sung and a dessert we never would have chosen is brought out, but we hate it even more if those things don't happen.

Later, at home, we get a gift from a loved one followed by a small fight about it. No one, by the way, ever gets a new car, wholly out of the blue, as a gift, like you see in TV commercials. At best, we get a cute little note that says, "I want you to get that new car you've always dreamed about," which leads to the purchase of a Honda Civic.

The Aftermath: And, just like that, it's over. There's nothing to look forward to, nothing to enjoy in the moment, a couple of items to return, and we find ourselves wanting to replay a day we didn't even enjoy and get another free dessert and thoughtful call from Ted.

So, we just sit there, a year older but, as the cliche goes, feeling no different. Nothing has been accomplished, and we realize there was no reason for any of this — the self-obsession, the loneliness, and, if we're Shaq, the burying alive of another set of servants and pets in our new pyramid.

So, in case you had any inclination to do so, please don't even think about my birthday, which is this Saturday.

(Mark Bazer can be reached at mebazer@yahoo.com.)

(c) 2004 mark bazer, Distributed by Tribune Media Services, Inc.