This weekend I went on my sister-in-law-to-be’s hen do. I am still recovering, two days later. After ten months of being thirty I’m starting to see that there is actually a difference in how I approach a night out and how I react to the aftermath of said night out. For instance…
20’s – phone call…night of the party/drinks etc
“What you up to?”
“Not much, you?”
“Not a lot…fancy going out for a drink?”
“Yeah, sounds good. See you in an hour”
30’s – phone call three weeks before party/drinks etc
“I haven’t seen you in ages, we need a night out…are you free three Saturdays from now?”
“Can I get back to you? I need to check my diary, see if I can get a babysitter, we’re on a sleep routine so not sure if I want to rock the boat…”
20’s – shower, blowdry hair, apply make up, put on one of the many dresses you have, pick a pair of shoes and matching bag.
30’s – book in to the salon to have a spray tan to try and make you look slim and less tired, browse the range of Spanx online, dive into Outfit the afternoon of the event after doing your big shop and realise that you hate your body and nothing you try on looks good, give up and go home, throw everything out of the wardrobe whilst having a breakdown, realise you now haven’t got time for a shower so use a baby wipe and put on your staple ‘smart jeans’ and floaty top to cover the muffin top (gave up on the Spanx after pulling a muscle trying to put them on).
The going out bag:
20’s – a sleek clutch style bag which only contains a lipgloss, your bank card, your keys and your phone.
30’s – an over the shoulder style bag because it’s more practical and so you can fit in your entire wallet, your phone, your phone charger because you inevitably forgot to charge it and won’t have enough battery to show everyone pictures of your gorgeous daughter, your entire make up bag, some tissues, an odd child’s size sock (how did that get in there?) tampons (because you never know) and condoms (because you never know!).
20’s – long and flowing, straightened or curled with some form of heating iron or up with 1000 hair grips and a gallon of hairspray keeping it there.
30’s – you’re lucky if you get time to wash it, let alone dry it. I work on the natural look and bed head’s meant to be sexy, no?
20’s – naked legs, shaved all the way up and fake tan beautifully applied.
30’s – 600 denier tights, no one will get a look at the hairy pasty legs hiding underneath.
20’s – drink, flirt, drink, dance
30’s – drink, have a sit down, drink, sneak a cranberry juice in, check your phone to make sure the babysitter hasn’t called, cast your eye around the bar and realise that all the guys are 10 years younger than you, flirt anyway, drink, dance, but feel really self conscious as you do so in case you are doing a ‘mum dance’.
20’s – throw up when you get in, but feel well enough to eat a fry up the next day around 12pm when you finally rise from your bed.
30’s – not be sick, so still feel sick when your evil body clock (or worse, a toddler) wakes you up at 7.30am. Eat toast gingerly and try and stop the head from exploding with water, coffee and ibuprofen whilst telling said toddler that mummy needs a quiet day and hoping they’ll be happy watching cbeebies for the next couple of hours.
20’s – not remembering what happened so thinking you had a great night.
30’s – remembering everything that happened, so knowing you made a complete arse out of yourself and exactly why you have that massive bruise.
20’s – none. You meet your friends in the pub that evening and order a beer, claiming hair of the dog.
30’s – none, you vow you will never drink again. Alcohol is empty calories anyway. This lasts two whole days until you realise that you miss wine.
Despite all if the above I had a great time this weekend and will no doubt be doing it all again shortly…maybe a couple less Jäger bombs next time though.