As I often share, I hung up my frayed social butterfly wings quite some time ago. Most of my weekends now consist of utilizing my cleaning supplies, paying my dues and being dog mom of the year. I usually hang out close to home, participate in my weekend church activities and pass out around 10:30 p.m. This past weekend though? Holly got her old groove back … or at least she attempted to.
Friday night, I drove an hour away to attend a high school pageant where I hung out with the young and the energetic. I tried to tell myself high school wasn’t THAT long ago for me either. I stayed out late and didn’t get to bed until well past my usual bedtime. Saturday I drove back out that way to pick up and sign off on my very satisfying tax return, which helped me feel a little better about this whole adulting thing. Then … Saturday night … I put on my dancing shoes (they actually weren’t good dancing shoes), and I went downtown with some co-workers. We checked out the cool new spot on Broadway and hung out on the fourth floor, which turned into a big house music dance party. I tried to bust a groove … but I came pretty close to busting a few other things. I tried to dance … but my high school cheerleading hips were nowhere to be found. Nonetheless, I pretended I was cool. I was also strangely relieved that I saw someone in the room who appeared to be in the ballpark of 37-years-old.
When we were “danced out” around 11:30, we passed those poor suckers lining the staircases and waiting to get in, but couldn’t due to room capacity. We passed them knowing we were the privileged VIP of the night … simply because we got there early, and they didn’t. While I felt like collapsing at 11:30, I knew the place was open until 3, and the night was still young for them. It made me feel sorry for them … and kinda hate them all at once. I didn’t fall asleep until well past 2 a.m. though, so I do have that going for me. Sunday morning, I traded in my downtown gear for my church attire and returned to normal weekend Holly. But after church? The sister needed to go downtown, and she actually talked me into it. So there I was walking the streets of downtown again, but this time my feet felt it. I even had to sit out some of it, but that’s beside the point. I then headed from downtown to Brentwood to meet a friend for a relaxing dinner. Again that’s kind of 31-year-old, Holly-like.
Still, it was a jam-packed, social filled weekend that made me believe “I still got it.” Never mind the fact that I could barely stay awake and a new part of my body started hurting every five minutes. This weekend reminded me of the younger me who once enjoyed my weekends walking through downtown in high heels (okay, I never enjoyed the heels part). However, I remembered life before I fully surrendered to being “office girl.” I’m paying for it though … trust me. As I write this, I feel myself drifting off, and I realize I’m severely sleep deprived right now. In fact, I think I’m going to fall into a sleep coma right about … zzzzz.
Holly Marie Tong is an award-winning journalist and the author of Chick Flicks Lie. She’s still kinda cool even if her body tells her otherwise.