These are the stages a mother goes through when she “hits the club.”
Preparation
Preparation is key. You have learnt from previous mistakes that you need to ensure your other half is available for baby sitting duty not only for the night. But for the following 24 hours. As hangovers post 30 last four times as long. If this is not possible you decide to only have a “few drinks”. Which is forgotten exactly one hour into your precious, and rare, evening of fun.
OOTD (that is youth speak for Outfit Of The Day)
Times have changed. Your shoes are now boot based. Bags are an over the shoulder affair. Tights are thick, black and come up to your boobs in a vain hope to smooth out any lumps and bumps. You would hold your stomach in tights. But last time you did? You got stuck in them in the toilet and had to SOS for help.
Knowing One’s Limitations
You give yourself a pep talk. You are now mature and you know your limitations. You know gin makes you weep. You know rosé makes you fight. You feel smug as you know yourself so well. You beat the youth who are still learning about themselves. You are mature. And will enjoy your evening in a classy fashion.
That All-Important First Drink
You arrive at the bar. You see a nice rosé behind the bar and think? Oh what the hell? What’s the worst that can happen???
Company
You look around at your four mates. It was meant to be eight but three dropped out due to sick children/ no babysitter/ relationship issues/ tired/ got pregnant again and so on. Yet you are rabid that five actual human beings made it out. Together. On the same night. AND ONE OF THEM IS CHILDFREE AND WILL HAVE ACTUAL STORIES TO TELL.
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Top Comments
Somewhere between the Cocktails and The Club, you look around and feel a bit smug, because you are *absolutely* certain that, as a youth, you were NEVER as skanky, loud or obnoxious as the 19 year old girls swaying precariously on 6 inch heels and wearing skirts so short they show their butt cheeks, screaming "Abso-totes YOLO babes!!" or something equally ridiculous..............
giving up going clubbing reminded me of the time I gave up playing with dolls. You know it used to be fun, you go through the action, but you just don't feel it. You fear giving up a phase of you life ( growing up) so you keep at if in a fruitless attempt to have fun.
I have not embraced my changing tastes and accept alcohol and night clubs have less the zero appeal to me. I would much rather be at home by the fire with w good book and 1 glass of champagne.