Over the hill?

As previously mentioned, I recently attended the nuptials of my great pal Myrtle to a dashing Scottish lad. It was a marvellous occasion all together and while I might have been the drunkest person at the wedding (is giving Ratface a casual shoulder ride on the DF at a wedding whilst wearing a cocktail dress ever appropriate), it was an amazing night and one I am truly glad to have been a part of. Anyhoo Myrtle and her new hubby are heading back to their home in Honkers come Friday so we had a little fare the well shindig at the Sheaf in Double Bay. What a fricking experience. 


There we were. A casual clique of pals all on the wrong side of 25, sipping our Pinot Noir's, enjoying our Seafood Paellas and gas-bagging about the world. It was terribly dignified. At about 9.30pm a DJ arrived and starts cranking the tunes. I decide to head to the ladies room to freshen up. I line up for a free loo and after being asked by some skank who was clearly bused in from Parramatta or somewhere equally as heinous if I knew anywhere she could get some 'gear', I realised I was the only person waiting in line who wasn't wearing sky high cork platform heels and a belt as a skirt. By the time I arrived back at our table, the dance floor had really gone up a notch and was now inhabited by a gaggle of slappers and two blokes who had clearly dumped a few too many dingers and were now having issues keeping their eyes from rolling into the back of their heads. I was in 18 year old hell but I won't lie, my first instinct was to go smash a few vodka raspberry's and get on that DF with them. 


As I looked around at my awesome group of pals who are mostly blissfully in love, I realised that the days of dressing up like hoes and spawning for men are well and truly over. I'm extremely thrilled that my special and awesome group of friends are seeing, dating, married to or engaged to such a great bunch of guys but I'd be lying and FYI I can't wait for the next wedding, but the realisation that the days of GNO's (Girls Night Out) and woo girling all over the shop might be over is a little saddening. 


As I looked at most of these trashy sluts grinding their asses up on rank, acne ridden 18 year old blokes with complete contempt, for the briefest of moments I wanted to be one of them. I'm now so over the hill that I'm gagging for my youth to come back to me. But then I looked at my pals once again and remembered how happy their happiness makes me and my yearning for my youth became a quickly distant memory. 


So for now I am somewhat happy being over the hill I suppose. I might not be able to skank around the Sheaf in crochet on a Wednesday night but golly gosh I can whack on a frock and absolutely kill it at a wedding. I know what I would prefer.