Going Out

Bachelorette party tonight. As stupid as this may sound, I'm really excited to be going out, although I have absolutely no idea what the night has in store for me. The woman who is getting married, I'm actually friends with the bridegroom more than the bride, but it's cool, I can roll with a bunch of women I don't know. No issues, no drama, just going along to have a good time and get.out.of.the.house. Because that's what it's all about, right?

I mentioned it in an earlier post, but I haven't been out in years. I've gone to respectable dinners and such with assorted girlfriends here and there, but I haven't been out-out in years. I don't even know if I've been out to an outing like this in the past decade. I haven't walked inside of a club since at least 1998 or 1999, except for my own bachelorette party, which wasn't the night of wild drinking that I hoped it would be because my body was repelling the booze with what was surely a warning sign of the marriage to come. Don't marry him, my body must have been telling me that night, but I didn't listen. Oh well, lesson learned. If my body cockblocks copious amounts of alcohol consumed in a relatively short period of time, I'll know there's a warning in it somewhere.

I ran over to cheap-but-hip big box clothing store today since I've lost some weight and I don't like the way any of my current clothes look for going out. They're okay for hanging out, going to work, slobbing around the house, etc. But not for going out. Imagine my pleasant shock when I picked out jeans two sizes smaller than my normal and they fit! Holy shit! And it wasn't a camel toe kind of fit, either. It was a good fit. But I didn't like the cut at the waist, because that gave me muffin top. Oh, gross. I think that muffin top might just be worse than camel toe. Why, why, why do all of these young girls not know this? Why is muffin top so prevalent nowadays that we have a term for it? God, just get a size larger. It's okay to not wear a size six. So anyway, I went back up a size, and muffin top disappeared, which meant I could get the tight and low cut top, because now I won't have this muffin top to worry about, and I can bring my girls out of hibernation. But still, I fit into a pair of jeans the size that I haven't seen for at least 10 years. Thank you, divorce. I was so excited I sat my ass right down on the bench in the changing room and quick posted a status update to my facebook page. Technology is awesome.

I need to run out and get a gift, probably a bottle of wine, because who doesn't love wine? She can drink with abandon and the bridegroom will thank me for getting his future intended drunk when I'm not there. So in the meanwhile, I'm washing clothes, cleaning up the house, doing chores here and there while I wait to get ready for my first night out in a decade. With no one to come home to give me the Spanish Inquisition. Oh, yeah. I'm ready for some few drinks, a little dancing, and hopefully some hot guy to do some mad shit talking with.