The most important ritual before going out is the preparation — getting ready, not to mention if you’re doing it with your friends. *Queues Beyoncé “7/11”* Just picture a girl’s childhood sleepover with alcohol — everyone’s running around in underwear, every mirror is occupied with selfies or twerking, someone’s in the shower and outfits riddle the floor.
Not to perpetuate any stereotypes but when prepping to go out, me and my girls take our sweet time. Don’t get me wrong though, I know plenty of dudes that err on the side of metro, but they have less to worry about clothing wise. True, dudes have more dress codes to be concerned with — no hats or Timberlands, but when it comes to dressing to impress they are finally #winning.
As if we’re not envious enough that men can pee standing up during a night out... (So envious that I’ve considered buying the Go Girl Female Urination Device that comes in lavender/fuchsia and is even sold at Target. Finally, an answer on how to avoid drunkenly sitting on wet toilet seats.) .. guys don’t have to put in near as much effort as us ladies do.
Don’t believe me? Here are some of our biggest pain points as we get ready every single weekend:
Heels vs. flats:
Last weekend, I went to the Budweiser Made in America Festival in Philly. The festival fell on Saturday and Sunday which left Friday for attending a club function. As we got ready, listening to some of our faves and reliving college pregames, we were all deciding what shoes to wear. Considering Saturday and Sunday would incorporate a lot of walking and standing, the only ideal night to wear heels would be Friday. So, heels it was. Needless to say, before the night was over I was sitting my caboose on every stool, speaker and sidewalk I came across. And when a friend decided to take a drunk run, it wasn’t long before I was walking barefoot through the streets of Philly. Yeah, I was that girl. Bare foot and black foot walking into our hotel at 3 a.m.
Tight or not tight:
Let’s be honest, if you’re scoping out a new boo-thang the tighter and more flattering the outfit, the higher chance you have of competing in the Q.C. nightlife. Me, on the other hand? I spend the majority of my time deciding between the two or three pairs of high-waisted pants that will hold it all in and the biggest tank to go on top. The struggle comes between looking cute and the two slices of pizzas I’ll be grabbing at Libretto’s once the night comes to an end. Guys, on the other hand, rarely chat about being bloated. *Scoffs*
Undies vs. commando:
Yes, this is a huge debate. When you’re talking about wearing tight clothes, underwear are always a part of the convo. You would think panty lines in general are a fashion crime to be discussed on Fashion Police. Granted, if Kim K flaunted her prize-winning tush with panty lines all hell would probably break loose. So, we sit around discussing if each outfit is conducive to a thong or granny panties (the most comfortable) or do we risk showing our goodies to hundreds of people. I’ll tell you what, I’ll take a good pair of granny panties any day.
To bra or not to bra?:
Trust me, I’m a huge advocate of coming straight home and letting the girls loose. But in making a decision on what to wear, just like undies, it can be challenge finding the right support for the ladies. We resort to letting our bra straps show, to tube tops which do nothing but fall, to pasties, even to bandaids. The favorite though? #freethenipple
Hair and makeup:
Last, but certainly not least, hair and makeup catastrophes can ruin the entire night. I can’t explain how many breakdowns I have witnessed over the wrong stroke of liquid eyeliner. And don’t even mention the hair. Once, my friend wore a wig for waitressing and it was supposed to be a “bob” — longer on the sides and shorter at the back. Well it was a bob, but the shortest version of it I had ever seen. Needless to say, there were tears, panic and she did not work that night.
So, there’s your look into the planet of Venus as we prepare to seize the night in the Queen City. It’s only fitting to conclude with Beyoncé, “All the ladies, who truly feel me, throw your hands up at me.”