Date Night & Dressing Up

I love dressing up. So does Hubby. It’s probably genetic – Poppet and Pixie play dress up just about every day. But I also enjoy dressing up. Sadly, with two small children, it’s not something I get to do very often. So when Hubby says, “Hey, do you want to go to the premiere of Pad Na Jou Hart? It’s black tie!” of course I’m going to jump at the chance.

Pixie in pink

Pixie in pink

The last movie I saw at the cinema was Skyfall. That was in December. 2012. (I really need to get out more.) The last time I got dolled up was . . . for our wedding anniversary last year? Maybe? I can’t remember.

I squeezed myself into my fanciest dress – last worn in my pre-children days. (Thank heaven for support panties.) Poppet, enthralled, reached out to touch the dress almost reverently. “What’s your princess name, Mommy?” she asked.

It was while I was putting make-up on (to hide the zombie complexion) that I remembered what I don’t like about dressing up. Eyeliner. Trying to make sure the blush is even on both cheeks. Trying to avoid clumpy mascara. Too much eye shadow? Too little? Lipstick on my teeth? You can tell I don’t bother with make-up every day, right? Honestly, I don’t know how women manage to wear make-up in this heat. My face felt like it was melting off all night. Next time I think I’m going to pull a Tilda Swinton and just go nude.  (As in, no make-up, not no clothes.  Get your mind out of the gutter!)

I also realised, as I began brushing my hair, that I probably should have given a bit of thought to what I wanted to do with my hair before, you know, I started doing something with it. “Just put it up,” Hubby said. Men don’t realise there’s no just doing anything when it comes to getting dolled up. There’s hairspray, and bobby pins, and sparkly clips, and more hairspray, and making sure the only hair out of place is hair you actually want out of place.

When I put on my killer high heels, I remembered why they’re my killer high heels. My poor feet are used to flat shoes or going bare. These heels are for sitting and looking pretty, not walking or standing for any period of time. Ah, the price of beauty.

These shoes weren't made for walking (but that won't stop Poppet from trying).

These shoes weren’t made for walking (but that won’t stop Poppet from trying).

We kissed the girls goodbye, wiped Pixie’s snot off my sleeve, and bid Nana good luck. Date night, all dressed up, red carpet event, romantic comedy, free snacks, no children. We really should do this more often. What say you, Hubby?


Talk to me. Seriously. You have no idea how badly I'm craving adult conversation.

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