Ex-party girl turned good

How original of me to write an existential article about approaching the age of 30 but nonetheless here it is: Ex party girl turned stay at home wifey (minus the handsome boyfriend and French bulldog puppy BUT plus my overbearing mother and an inordinate amount of time by myself).

I used to spend next to no time by myself. Even when out and about I would spend my time flitting from nightclub to nightclub until the wee hours of the morning, flirting with bartenders for free drinks like the social butterfly I thought I was. Gone are the days when I could shower, brush my teeth and put mascara on all at the same time. I would spring out of bed on half an hours worth of sleep and somehow make it to work on time (well not on time, 10 minutes late but that’s basically on time isn’t it?).

I would function almost like a human until lunch when I would fall gratefully on a huge mound of Mc Donald’s or pizza and usually a donut or three. After I had finished gorging myself on snacks I would curl up in any chair I could find so I could have a tiny snooze (complete with dribbling) until I would snore-rouse myself and get back on the floor for four more hours of folding jeans and being nice to people on purpose so they buy that t-shirt they’ve been dithering about with for 45 minutes (Fuck retail).

I often miss younger me. I think back on her fondly – she was wild and carefree. She was the most awkward individual you have ever known but it didn’t matter because her English accent was stronger so she could blame it on being foreign and eccentric. She didn’t need much sleep and could function hungover.

Now I have to plan my drinking with preciseness or woe betide me! I must have at least one day off the next day and I can no longer function hungover. A day and a half is required to recover fully. I shall be 29 this year and the sparkling party girl has all but left, she became annoyed because I could no longer keep up. She left me, probably to go to some glittering rager that never ends. Good luck to her, I’m much happier at home with my phone and my laptop and sleep. Although, sometimes, whenever I do venture into a pub or a bar sometime around my third drink I do wish that I could join her. This very quickly passes as by the fifth drink I usually fall into a deep sleep having left half of it behind because I couldn’t handle it. I can usually hear party me laughing softly at me just before I slip into unconsciousness.

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