Mums go ‘out out’
So we made it ‘out out’ to quote my mate Micky. But picking a date was ever so tricky.
Organising babysitters, or hubby’s to stay home. So the kids would be safe and we could go out alone.
I try to get ready and curl my wild hair. Do adventurous makeup to add vital flare.
But I look at my shoes, a collection that’s bursting. My past taste in shoes, I’m now desperately cursing.
Why aren’t there more wedges? Or could I wear flats? No I should wear a heel, I’ve decided, that is that!
So I do a test walk, in my old friends ‘high heels’. I’ve now lost the knack, I require new skills.
My ankle wobbles, I may break my neck…But hey I’m going ‘out out’, I’ll wear them, what the heck!
I wobble to the bar and order my wine. That first sip of grape tastes utterly divine.
It slides down like water, a great wondrous drink. Then my brain starts to change, and I radically think…
I’m 20 again, I can move like the rest. I can shake my booty. Show the youngens who’s best!
But my bum continues wobbling, long after it was shaken. My attempt an epic fail, I fear I was mistaken.
Then dreading morning comes…Who hit me on the head? Or have I reached hell? And am I just dead?
My head is thumping, my kids call my name. What’s that noise I think suddenly? They shout once again.
That’s right I’ve got kids now. Oh sh#t…what to do? I’m going to be sick and I run for the loo.
I need water and paracetamol, with a strong cup of tea. Then I greet the kids zombified as they jump up at me.
“Never again!” I say with such vengeance. While my kids are still young, I’ll skip my independence.
Then just one month later, I’ve forgotten all that pain. My friend suggests a girls night out. I’m up for it again!
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