Playing Dress-Up

This weekend found me at the bachelorette party for a dear friend.  My friend loves MTV's "Jersey Shore," so we made a pilgrimage to Seaside Heights, NJ.  We walked the boardwalk, ate all the fried foods, bought purposely-torn black shirts with leopard print lips, and were hit on buy the lifeguards on the beach who didn't care that we were drinking alcohol through penis-shaped straws.  And that was all before dinner.

We dined at the famous Rivoli's (where you can get cannolis) and were astounded by the enormous portions.  And yes, the cannolis are fantastic.  With some yummy, hearty Italian food in our tummies, we went back to our hotel to get dressed for Karma.

We six girls donned the tightest, shortest, most-clubbiest outfits, amidst a sea of press-on nails, ridiculous makeup and champagne.  We were nearly ready to go when someone realized not a single one of us had used (or even purchased) a Bump-it in her hair.  I stepped up to the challenge, with comb, bobby pins, and hairspray in hand:



A few minutes later, we were strutting down the street feeling pretty HOT.  But as we walked down the street to the club, we realized that we were the only ones in costume.  The girls all around us were in the same types of outfits we were - except they meant it. 

It was a fun night.  I loved dancing for hours on end with my friends.  I loved watching all the other people in the club.  I loved playing dress-up in a ridiculous dress with 4-inch high hair and bright red lips.  I am also so glad I am not actually living that lifestyle.  The biggest sign for me that I didn't fit in with the crowd: I was smiling too much.  What a great way to not fit in.