Partying in your 20's:
My girlfriends and I would go out four nights a week. I would stumble into my job with a ringing in my ears and an ache in my head, wearing pitch black risky business type shades. Twilight before vampires were popular. Mumble hello to my receptionist, mumble morning to my bosses, weave into my office, close the door and lay on the sweetly cold floor moaning about how "I was definitely NOT going out tonight".
At 4:30 p.m. the phone would ring. Damn. My girlfriend on the other line talking about some party we just HAD to go to at some club we HAD to go to where EVERYONE was going. Get my second wind at 5 p.m., brush my teeth in the office bathroom (I kept a toothbrush in my drawer), go to Macy*s, purchase an entirely new outfit, change in the store bathroom, jump in a cab and check my old clothes with my coat at the door. Party till the wee hours of the morning. Wear the dark shades. Stumble into work. Close the office door. Repeat. Repeat. Repeat.
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"Partying" in your 40's:
Last night went out with my friend Kicks for dinner and drinks at one of our favorite restaurants. Laughed with our favorite bartender, did the whole wine/food/wine/dessert/wine wine thing. Felt pretty damn good (okay drunk). Both of us looked at each other, swearing it was close to 11:00 p.m. Patting ourselves on the back for staying out ssssoooo late on a work night. Looked at our phones: 8:08 p.m. We had gotten there at six o'clock. P.M. Damn.
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Going out for one night constitutes one full day of rest. Shades drawn for a dark cocoon. Ibuprofen at the ready. Maybe can venture out for food and water. Going out on consecutive nights? Sheeeeeet, that demands an IV hook-up, Valium strength ibuprofen, one full day of silent achy sleep and half of the next morning still indoors. Provisions better be at hand. When did I have to start scheduling my fun time?
Look, I am glad not to be 20. I fully, and I mean FULLY, enjoyed my youth and everything that came with it. Thank God there was no iPhone or the Android or the You Tube or the Instagram or the Facebook back then. Frankly, I am surprised that I am still alive to tell the tale(s). I understand that the body 'naturally progresses'; that I couldn't repeat those times if I tried - and trust me, some nights I do. What I don't appreciate is feeling younger but doing "older". And what sucks is that now I can afford it and am mature enough to enjoy it. What a mean cruel joke Mother Nature is playing on me. On us. Bitch.
But, I ain't dead. I won't take it laying down (ha!). Neither should you. Keep on keeping on. Go against the grain, enjoy life to the fullest, hang until you can't hang anymore. And let's make a pact: If you see me nodding off in the corner, pass some smelling salts underneath my nose so I can get my ass home. And I will do the same for you. Remember, an extra IV is always in my purse.
xo,
Fourty(ish) and Fabulous