Girl’s night is a traditional almost all women hold, it starts out as slumber parties, when you’re young, footie pajamas and board games. Once you out grow the slumber party it becomes a sleepover. I know what you are thinking, really, those two things are the same. But let me assure you, they are not, one is for kids, and the other is for the more sophisticated teenager. Teenagers always have to be more sophisticated, it’s very important for them to stand away from the younger crowd, to show parents that they are cool, misunderstood, and literally older.
Once you hit your early twenties sleep over’s more of an “ oops I had too much to drink, so now I’m staying at your house because I can’t drive home” happenstance.
To compensate for those missed girls nights, because that’s essentially what a slumber party is, women have adapted and now have “girls nights”, in my case I have friends who like to stay in and watch whale wars while eating an assortment of cheeses and drinking too much wine. The other group love to go out and get their dance on. Tonight is a go out and dance sort of night.
This particular night everyone which means myself and my three other friends are meeting at my house to pretty up and get their drinks on before heading out to Seattle.
As I wait for everyone I wonder if I have a cocktail or should I wait for everyone else to show up before starting my prefunk? I think this as a put pink nail polish on my toes.
My sister, sitting next to me is probably wondering the same thing as she listlessly searches my lap top for the appropriate "getting pretty" song.
This is her favorite part about girls night, it’s not about the places we go, or the dancing, or how trashed we end up at the end of the night, it’s the bonding before we even leave the house that matters to her, it’s the ritual of getting ready and with others that makes her happy.
Going out dancing is more about the preparation than it is the actual event. Women, or at least, the ones I have known have a need to feel beautiful, they want a moment where they can dress up, put on false eye lashes and overly bright lipstick. They want their own personal pretty woman moment; the idea that someone will fuss with her hair, and she will apply falsies that makes her excited about the evening. As the other girls start to arrive, there are four of us total, the mayhem of prepping begins. I get my long red hair curled by someone as another friend talks about her glitter shirt.
Apparently, her fiancé has a phobia of glitter.
To be honest, this phobia is really my fault. I went to a high school dance in a baby blue dress that had more or less been bathed in a vat of glitter, he drove us to the dance and his car was forever changed.
He was no longer able to get in and out of his car without glitter being somewhere on him, to him, glitter had turned into a pesky parasite that he could never fully rid himself or those he cared about until the car was sold and he purchased another.
As a general rule he will no longer allow glitter to be within 50 feet of him if not contained. I don’t know if this is a real phobia other have, but if it isn’t, perhaps he needs to go to therapy and get his phobia an official name.
She pulls the evil item from a plastic bag that her fiancé demanded it be placed in order to be in their home and especially his car.
Eager to show it off she puts it on and smiles brightly. The shirt is lovely. I can picture the fear on her poor fiancés face when she purchased this lovely top.
As I start mixing cocktails, the curl in my hair already falters due to Seattle’s humid night. A sweat mustache starts forming on my lower lip as I make my way up and down my condo stairs to pull one item from my bathroom down to the main “getting ready” area downstairs. My role is always the care taker, I want to make sure everyone is fed, has a drink, has their makeup and hair the way they want it, and is happy. After everyone is taken care of, only then do I focus on myself.
All three of these girls are different, I like to say to myself that I collect a diverse group of friends; because I have so many interests I am able to make nice with a lot of people for the most part.
Take example the group tonight, I have a math teacher who teaches at one of the most prestigious schools in the Seattle area, she is a total hippy, always talking about animal sanctuaries, saving the world in one way or another and yoga. She is caught up to date with current events, and has the ability to hold wicked debates and conversations about almost any hot topic going on.
My sister in law, who works at the same company I do, she is a short pixie looking woman who has chin length red brown hair, she bases all real life events on the televisions series Nip/Tuck and gets her news from either the most recent STAR magazine (yes, she has a subscription) or Perez Hilton.
Lastly, My other friend, makes Jewelry and sells it locally and at the markets has a deep love for Mary Kate and Ashley Olsen she is an instant tanner-oholic rubs at her odd orange wrist lines.
Previously, she had put on instant tanner and had forgotten to wipe off part of it, as a result her pretty slender wrists covered with gypsy bracelets are orange brown, my husband told her it looked like she had been staining a deck. The best part about her is that she has the ability to point out her fuck ups, she deliberately shows people saying yeah see what i did, yeah its fucked up.
She opens herself up in a way that many aren’t able to do about things like that, me personally, I would be scrubbing the shit out of my arms until that stuff came off. But in my case, I am too pale for instant tanner to even make a difference.
My sister the smallest one in the group is ready, her perfect purple Smokey eye and flash lashes are complete, she throws on her shoes and demands a group picture. Since none of us are completely ready she is the tallest in the photo. Which weird all of us out except for my instant tan friend, since she is always the shortest of the group,
As we head out to Bell town I look at these three women, beautiful and so different and realize I am one lucky girl, I have smart and crazy friends. No matter what happens on girl’s night, we don’t judge, we are out to support each other and offer love and fun. We all might have a place in mind we want to go to, but really the most important part of the night is right here, in my living room that now looks like a crack house owned by a Mary Kay agent.