New Year’s Eve

I have a love-hate relationship with NYE.

First, there is so much pressure to have an awesome time on this exact day every year. And if you don’t, sucks for you. For instance, this year it falls on a Monday. Why can’t I just sit on the couch and eat ice cream like any other normal Monday? You finally decide on a plan with your friends and then realize that none of your clothes fit after all of the holiday cookies you’ve been eating for the past week. You’re then forced to go shopping for a new outfit. You enter the mall, or store, or outlet of choice and sequins are immediately shoved in your face. Holy hell. Call me cray, but I don’t feel like having the crap scratched out of me by my clothing. Aside from that, it’s just. Oh, sequins.

 Far Left - Internacionale Purple Sequin Pailette Dress. Near Left - Matthew Williamson - Multi Colour Sequin Dress. Far Right - French Connection - Magenta Pink Sequin Dress. Near Right - Matthew Williamson New Butterfly by Matthew Williamson Collection - Multi Colour Sequin Tunic Dress.

On the plus side, if you need a mirror and your friend is wearing a sequin dress, you can always just ask her to stand still for a moment to get a glimpse of yourself. I guess if you need to wear sequins this is the night to do it. After years of dance recital costumes, I just think I’ve had my fair share of shiny.

photo (7)
Here’s hoping you don’t disown me for this, Jackie.

So you’re finally able to find a normal, hopefully black, dress and you hope for the best. By the time the actual day rolls around, senses are heightened. People are getting excited about all the possibilities the new year can bring. You realize you’re gonna need to be fully prepared with booze to handle this and plan accordingly.
Don’t look at me. I’m stocking the fridge.

After a little lot of drinks, you’re feeling better about the rest of the evening. But then, you leave with your fellow pre-gamers to walk to the bar, restaurant, home, or other choice of establishment and it’s freezing and you just want to cry and move to Mexico.

After what feels like hours, you get to the bar and your buzz has worn off. You immediately get a drink to help handle all of the sweaty sequined people around you. After some hatred for everything going on, you look at your friends and it looks like they’re having an okay time so you try to make the most of it and just join the party.

Before you know it, you’re sporting beads and hats and you’re actually enjoying yourself dancing and drinking with friends. Just as you’re beginning to think this isn’t the worst, the countdown to midnight begins and everyone gets awkward and shifty. If you’re single, everyone starts coping out the scene to have an awkward kiss. If you’re in a relationship, you probably just had a fight earlier about who’s friends you’d be spending the night with, and now everyone is staring at you waiting for you to have some sort of make-out sesh. If you’re in an awkward “dating, not single, not quite in a relationship” relationship and you’re with that person, I do not envy you. If you have awesome friends like myself, they’ll come to save to day at midnight.

Once that hogwash is over the drinking continues and by this time the heels that you thought would look fantastic feel like knives on the bottom of your feet. It’s finally time to go home. You’re walking barefoot. You’re still sweating from dancing but freezing at the same time from the 20* temps outside. You’re craving a McDonald’s snack wrap like it’s nobody’s business and all you want to do is go home and curl up in your bed. Instead, everyone decided to be responsible adults and not drive. Eight to a bed. Pile in, everyone. When you all wake up the next day your head is throbbing, and you’re still snack wrap-less. Everyone starts to relive the night and fill in the blanks, and you realize it wasn’t all that bad – but still, just like any other night.

No matter your plans, I hope you all have a safe, fun, and happy New Year’s Eve! May 2013 be good to you, and if you feel like ringing it in with a carton of ice cream on your couch, I won’t judge. I might be jealous though.


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