How I Get Ready for a Night on the Town

How do I go from looking like this: lindsay-lohan-crack

to this vision of class: 36510_4215369902773_2132590753_n

before a night out?


4 Hours Prior to Leaving the House: Get a craving for some kind of take-out food for dinner. I will generally rationalize the fact that I’m about to eat some sort of heavy meal before wearing some sort of spandex/cotton blend dress by telling myself that eating a huge meal before drinking is the responsible thing to do.

3.5 Hours Prior to Leaving the House: Curse myself for eating Indian or Greek food before going out. No amount of Listerine Total Care Mouthwash will hide this smell because now the chicken tikka masala is just seeping out of my pores. I make peace with myself and God and the fact that I’ll be talking with my hand discreetly in front of my mouth for the night.

3 Hours Prior to Leaving the House: Finish the last 45 minutes of Clueless on Comedy Central.clueless-lipstick

2 Hours and 15 Minutes Prior to Leaving the House: Remember that time exists and who I am as a person and realize that 2 hours and 15 minutes is cutting it close if I want to be ready on time.

2 Hours Prior to Leaving the House: Stop watching a 10 year-old episode of Law and Order: SVU on TBS and get in the shower (unless it’s the episode where Olivia goes undercover at the women’s prison, in which case, all is lost).

1 Hour and 15 Minutes Prior to Leaving the House: Start in on a glass of wine while I dry my hair. Drinking while getting ready to go out and drinking while cooking are my two favorite hobbies besides drinking outside during the day.

1 Hour Prior to Leaving the House: Weigh the pros and cons of leaving the house. Think of ways to get out of these plans. Curse myself for making plans. Screen shot 2013-02-12 at 10.51.31 AM

45 Minutes Prior to Leaving the House: Realize that drinking before putting my eye make up on was a bad idea. Go through 8 Q-tips trying to clean up the mess I’ve made with my Urban Decay Naked Palette.

30 Minutes Prior to Leaving the House: Take a break because make up is tiring. Walk around the house. Pick at whatever food I didn’t finish from earlier. Pour myself more wine. Decide it’s too late to cancel now. Consider canceling, again. No, I’m going, I have to go.

15 Minutes Prior to Leaving the House: Look at my phone and see that I’m supposed to be at my destination in 5 minutes. Apply mascara and curl my eyelashes.

10 Minutes Prior to Leaving the House: Put on the outfit I decided on earlier.

5 Minutes Prior to Leaving the House: Put on a different outfit.

1 Minute Prior to Leaving the House: Curl my eyelashes.

30 Seconds Prior to Leaving the House: Text friends that I’m on the road.

5 Seconds Prior to Leaving the House: Curl my eyelashes and tease my hair.

1 Second Prior to Leaving the House: Look longingly at the couch.

As you can see, there’s so much more to getting ready for a night out than most men realize.

313625_2124322667899_111874875_n Cheers, haters! Nobody looks this good in their New Balances!

Vegas Part III: Thoughts on Clubbing

Some champagne sent to our room

I feel like I need to let all the ladies here in on a little something I figured out during my trip that really surprised me.

I was chatting with a gentleman at a club who was wearing converse with a suit. Now, I don’t actually give a crap that he was wearing canvas shoes to a nice establishment- I just couldn’t get over my jealousy that he got to enjoy his night in comfortable shoes. I pointed out the injustice that he was able to wear sneakers while I danced in heels, and I think he and his friend were genuinely surprised by the fact that I don’t think dancing in stilts for 4 hours is fun.

As I type this, my two big toes, the ones I need the most, are still swollen from the dancing I did last Friday. I’m in some real danger of losing a toe nail. And yet men are so sure that we wear heels (and tiny dresses) for our own pleasure.

At this point, it was my job to enroll them in Women’s Studies 101 and school them in the ways of what it’s like to be a lady out on the town. (Side note: why don’t I have a boyfriend? I thought guys loved ranting feminists).

Literally, this guy and his friend were surprised when I pointed out that the heels were actually to impress their species and not so I could reach my inner Shania Twain, because man, I feel like a woman.

Members of the male population really think that we enjoy bouncing around in spandex. They have no idea how exhausting it is to suck your stomach in for hours. If we were dressing for ourselves we would be wearing some adidas and yoga pants -clothing more conducive for the actual cardio work out that is dancing. If women just loved their sweaty feet sliding around in heels while they broke it down (from here to China Town), you’d see some moms in Zumba class dancing to The Electric Slide in their finest Arden B stripper dresses.

Now, I’m not saying women don’t like dressing up, but I would personally like to dress up when I’m on my way to a place where I can sit down- dinner, a show, etc.

Maybe this is just me- when I dance I want to dance without being tied down by the worry of my lady bits escaping from my dress. I would also like to be able to dance like a hippie at Woodstock and not like a girl named Candy Champagne at the Boom Boom Room, but that’s another story for another day.