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Going Out Out – woohoo!

Thank you Micky Flanagan, this phrase is so true – There is a huge difference between going out and going out out……and this Saturday I am going out out! Yay!

I am already dreading the hangover on Sunday, as myself and my NCT mummy friends are hitting a cocktail bar to make cocktails – this has got disaster written all over it.

Anyway, the main reason for this post is because I have noticed a huge difference in going out now I am in my 30’s (just), compared to when I was in my 20’s..

 

Here are some examples:

Then – You would grab something from your wardrobe because you had loads of lovely going out clothes.

Now – either a) find something remotely clean and with minimal food/snot/sick stains or holes, or b) make a mad dash to the shops to buy something new – grab the first thing you can find then spend the entire evening worrying that you look ridiculous.

 

Then – throw on the highest heels you have and dance the night away

Now – find some heels that still have the heels attached and therefore won’t make you sound like you are tap dancing.  Check that you can walk in them. Put spare flats in your handbag just in case.

 

Then – pick up your (co-ordinating) clutch bag

Now – clear your best handbag of the used baby wipes, discarded raisins and empty bags of bear paws.

 

Then – slap on the tiniest amount of make up onto your perfect smooth and fresh skin.

Now – start with a face pack 3 days before, then exfoliate, moisturise, and preen yourself daily in the hope that someone might mistake you for a 35 year old.

Apply make up liberally and often during the evening.

 

You’re ready to go out! Yay!

 

Then – drink drink drink – with no regard for the next days hangover, because you can spend the day catching up on Hollyoaks on the sofa.

Now – drink drink drink – end up plastered because you have no tolerance for it any more, but you don’t go out very often so when you do it needs to be worthwhile!  It seemed like such a good idea to buy that third round of skittlebombs……

Once you finally get out of the house, you check your phone every 30 minutes to make sure the child/children/responsible adult are still alive.

 

The next day: Ouch. Thank goodness for DVD’s and Netflix. Pledge to never do it again. Until next time….

 

I can’t wait!

 

PS: I’ll let you know how the cocktail class goes!

cheryl

 

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