I saw this great “ex-party girl” post today.
And I’ll be damned if that shiz ain’t true. But let’s call a thing a thing here. Based off all the other Facebookers sharing this post (who also don’t launch chemical vessels of any sort down their sanguine highway anymore) this is really more of an ex-lush-n-drug post. I mean, party girls might tone down the stiletto height, up the fabric on their décolletage and derrier, and switch crowds to a more mature scene. But they don’t hang up their entire persona along with their party girl pants and hooker heels just because they hit 30+. Not if they don’t have a good reason to. Nah. They do it because it’s part’a the “people, places, and things” bit of the program they experimented with after realizing that experimenting with mind-alterers always yielded the same scientific conclusion: Fuckery.
And how do I know? ‘cause I totally relate to this article, but that’s just because I’m one of those people who also had to hang up the imbibing along with those ridiculous titty popping ensembles I’d don. Funny enough, as a #TBT, one of my friends indeed posted a snap from one such night just before I’d read the party girl article:
(I’m grateful the anterior portion of my getup’s hidden. It’s almost like – when you’re wearing something that revealing – you need to get drunk in order to feel confident enough to say, “MMYes! This is a glittery bra I’m passing off as a dress! And what of it?!”)
Then, like a synchronicity yes-and, my friend also posted this snap of some hookery shoes we chose together back when we’d go out and purchase brand new whore uniforms for what we’d call “Pretty Princess Night” (which was really more like Polluted Queen Evening, generally culminating in volcanic vomit in the bushes of somewhere before pulling ourselves together to finish out the night and doing more mistakes we could blame on the alcohol.)
So, the question is: can you retain your inner party-girl, sans the day-after-shame-inducing lubricant?
Or Cougar wardrobe (which, is basically just you wearing the same stuff you did at 22?)
Can we stay youthful and fun while aging gracefully? Like Helen Mirren?
For me, it took (and it still taking) a while to get to the point where I’m not so anxious heading into party-like public situations. It always takes a bit to acclimate. Mostly because I feel like “They’re all drinking – and I’m not” (and it makes me feel like I’m on some unrelatable wavelength or someth.) But, inevitably, the anxiousness abates, always. Just gotta give it time. And whenever I do get calm (generally by reminding myself they’re drunk, so their judgment doesn’t matter anyway), it’s just like I was in the old days – but minus the booze… or public nudity… or law enforcement. That’s a nice, feeling – that fun with faculty-control. The yes-and to that is that that self-possession is what allows you to be more of an elegant Audrey than the drunken Marilyn. But I have to work hard at it (against my own irrational fears), every damned time I start out. And that’s the thing about it. When you drink ‘cause you’re uncomfortable in your own skin, not to augment whatever good thing you’re already feeling, it’s too easy to take it too far. And I did. That’s why I had to hang up my party girl bottle along with my party girl gear.
But the persona? Nah.
It’s like that lady Oprah interviewed last weekend said: “Getting older is inevitable; Aging is optional.”
And I intend to Andrew W.K. style party my sobriety till the wheels come off – and stay young doing it.