I’m the type of girl that loves getting ready to go places. Some people say they can’t be bothered with the effort, but that is my favourite part. If I don’t spend at least four hours getting ready to go out, I may aswell not go. I’ve always been like this, if my outfit doesn’t match well then the world doesn’t get to see it.
However, some times my nights out are last minute ideas and I’m not at home to fire half a bottle of Cocoa Brown onto my legs or put on a bra that makes my boobs sit perfectly without drooping towards my toes. I basically head out white as a ghost with leg hair that hasn’t been tended to since my last night out four weeks previous.
These nights usually start with me saying “I look rotten” and my boyfriend saying “No you don’t, you look nice.” Well, if there is anything I learned from this it is that men are bloody liars.
Off I go with my tights, flats, strap top, stud earrings and hair thrown up into that kind of messy, homeless look as I prepare to surround myself with highly intoxicated barbie dolls.
The night starts in complete comfort as I stroll through town in my flats but the worst thing happens as I get to the door. I don’t get asked for ID. What? Hello? Are you really going to just let me walk in the door? Yes I’m 19, but I don’t usually look old going out, how ugly must I look right now? It’s because I’m not showing my legs isn’t it? I’m not like 43 with four kids you know, you can ask me for ID? All these thoughts rush through my head as I stumble through the door in a deeply unstable emotional state…
Then as if the night couldn’t get any worse, it does. You look around at all the perfectly smooth legs (that are at about eye level because everybody is towering over you in massive high heels) and inhale the stink of various brands of tan that are surrounding you. WHY DIDN’T I JUST MAKE AN EFFORT? At this stage I’m feeling like first year me all over again, a little unattractive and insecure about myself while desperate for the ground to swallow me up.
The only happiness I feel is the end of the night when I have the ability to skip to McDonalds for my chicken nuggets in my flats while every other girl has never been closer to death.
Note to self: Always make an effort going out. Always. Razors and straighteners are your friends, tights and extra layers for warmth are not.
