While there’s nothing wrong with being the kind of gal who likes to go to town on hair, make-up and clothes when she’s getting ready to go out, I am not one of those girls. While my friends are busy backcombing, fake eyelash applying and nail painting, my getting ready routine involves sucking it up, putting on a black dress and waiting patiently in the kitchen until the strains of Pitbull coming from under my flatmates’ doors have abated and the taxi’s at the front door.
If you’re like me, then the Saturday night routine will be a familiar struggle. Here’s a few things you already know.
You’ll become a tutorial mannequin
‘Have you ever tried fake eyelashes/a smoky eye/a red lip?’ someone will ask you excitedly before coming at you wielding make-up tools with all the dexterity of a baby who’s found their way into the booze cabinet. Ten minutes later, you’ve been primped, primed and contoured to within an inch of your life and, despite the fact that everyone screams, ‘YOU LOOK SO CUTE’ when it’s all finally over, what you see in the mirror afterwards is a young version of Big Mo staring back at you.
Don’t even think about wiping your new look off though, that’s exactly what you do to piss people off. Give in and resign yourself to the fact that you’re set to spend the rest of the night looking like a Russian prostitute.
You get pitying looks
Once, one of my similarly-underdressed friends went to visit her mate at uni and, on a night out, wore a pair of (shock horror) Converse trainers. ‘But like, why?’ enquired one of her mate’s new friends. ‘Are you like, a lesbian?’ she whispered, baffled as to why a straight girl wouldn’t want to squeeze her feet into a pair of five-inch Louboutin rip offs to make herself more attractive to the opposite sex.
See, in the same way that you pity them for crippling their feet, they feel sorry for you and your inability to make yourself ‘attractive’. The trouble is though, there’s more of them and only one of you. Again, suck it up sister, it’s going to be a looooong night.
You’re going be the drunkest one there
Because while your mates were busy applying their fifth layer of foundation, changing their shoes for the third time or artfully arranging stick-on diamantes in a pattern on their eyelids, you did your getting ready business in a casual three minutes, meaning that you’re going to spend the rest of the pre-drinks time roaming from room to room, getting more and more drunk on the vodka and squash that was poured out for everybody.
Luckily, since you’re not wearing heels, your drunken fall from grace later won’t be as hard.
You’re going to be the shortest one there
Because the last time actual heels were part of your repertoire, it was the year 11 disco and you’d borrowed (stolen) your sister’s shitty Bay Trading stillettos. The best part was when the heel snapped when you were dancing with Paul Rowlands, leading to an ever-so-elegant headbutting incident and a ceremonious booting out from Mr Jackson, who blamed your loose legs on the three Reef alchopops you almost definitely consumed before you came in.
Since then, heels haven’t really been your thing, and your position as ‘the short one’ of the group (despite the fact you’re actually three inches taller than Mandy in flat shoes) has been fully cemented.
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Follow Jess on Twitter @Jess_Commons
Picture: Francesca Allen
This article originally appeared on The Debrief.