I don’t know about you but nothing annoys me more than when a night out that I have built up for ages doesn’t end up being as good as I expected it to be. You expected to be drunk, feeling like Beyonce and loving life. However, the reality on these nights is that you are completely sober, bored and look like 2007 Britney Spears. For me, my hair pretty much sets the whole mood of the night ahead. If my hair doesn’t cooperate, my night will definitely not cooperate. Winged eye liner on top of the hair disaster does not help matters either.
When you finally get into town you realise that you are surrounded by a load of drunk sixteen year olds. You are then hit with the realisation that your youth is now behind you because you are no longer that underager pushing your boobs up to your chin and wearing a skirt so short that as my dad would say “you now have two more cheeks to powder”. I never thought I would get to the age where I am complaining about underagers, I’m only nineteen, that was me not so long ago…but lads, the reality is that I’m not that party animal that I was a few months ago. I enjoy a nice quiet drink with good friends and music at a healthy volume. I wear coats and often bring flats. Who am I? What has happened to me? I never thought I’d see the day where I sound like my mother…should I be taking out a mortgage soon? Life is grim…
