This Saturday I am going to the hen do (bachelorette party) of one of my closest friends. Without giving my age away I have known her since birth and that would make it about 34 years (ha ha see what I did there?). Anyway, it’s a really long time and her wedding as a consequence is a really big deal. Not least of which because she is flying over to Ireland from Australia where she has been living for the last few years and making a stop off in London the weekend before for the hen do. The final reason it is a big deal is that I will get to see some really good friends I haven’t seen in ages, some since before Munchkin was born!!
The plan is to hit town in the afternoon, learn to make cocktails, have dinner with karaoke (I am praying the cocktails will lessen the horror that is my singing voice), then go to a club. The dress code is dress to impress.
Herein, lies the problem. I am reading this to mean that my usual evening attire of “slightly nicer jeans than normal plus a vaguely pretty top” won’t cut it. My feeling is that I really ought to wear a dress but all of my dresses are super fancy because I either bought them for a wedding or a christmas black tie formal dinner. I don’t really have anything to wear to a club. You’d think I might have realised this sooner as I actually genuinely can’t remember the last time I went to a club. Ummmmm……it might have been on my own hen do which is now nearly 2 years ago. O.M.G….I am officially old. Instead of being super excited about the whole thing I woke up early this morning worrying about the fact that I have no dress to wear, that I can’t face wearing super high heels because my feet will hurt after 20 mins (flats are a pregnant and new mum lifesaver) and that my anticipation of the Sunday hangover is already killing me.
So…..I have started to kick a plan into action: I have stocked up on super strength painkillers (what do you mean I could just drink less on the night???), I am going to pack little flats in my handbag and ………
I have a horrible feeling I will make a Friday lunchtime dash from work and panic buy some completely inappropriate dress that will make me look like mutton dressed as lamb.
Or after a few cocktails, super hot.
We shall see.