So, there I was, I had curled half of my hair with the straighteners when Chynna called and said they were in the hotel bar. Great, half hair straight, half curly, but I needed to meet them as we were going to grab something to eat before we started drinking, so I needed to do that before I could start properly getting ready. I was a lightweight so needed to line my stomach. Then all my other friends turned up and none of our rooms were together, even though I had requested it, but not a lot we could do about it now. We lost track of time as we were chatting and ordered food at the hotel bar, but I could barely eat it, although I knew needed to so I wouldn’t get pissed too quickly later. We had all forgotten to bring alcohol to drink whilst we got ready. I’d left mine on the side at home. My best friend had left hers chilling in the fridge, again at home. We ended up buying a bottle of prosecco at the hotel for £25, which was the price of five bottles in the supermarket, but we didn’t have another option, really: as the time to get ready was dwindling away. It was all a rush yet again why does this always happen I will never learn and at this rate I was going to be late for my own hen do. Hopefully nothing else would go wrong, but let’s face it, this was me.
I was ready in my nude coloured bodycon dress with bride to be sash and wedding veil covered in shamrocks and green diamantes, with a learner plate safety pinned to the back that Chynna had made and a St Patrick’s day shot glass around my neck. I looked very tacky, just how I had always imagined. It was perfect and we were even on schedule. Everyone piled into my room drinks in hand and Chynna holding a three-foot inflatable penis.
We decided to take obligatory photos for social media and had a drink whilst finishing up, Debbie went outside for a fag and I knew when I heard OMG when the door opened that something was bad although she did like to over dramatize things. I looked out and it was actually worse than I thought. The weather warning had come true: it was snowing heavily now not a light dusting any more. I couldn’t believe the amount of snow for such a short amount of time as we had only come back to the room an hour ago.
It did look pretty glistening in the moonlight, but was not practical in one’s heels; one of us would end up breaking our neck. I ended up being late in the end as cabs were few and far between, so I was late for my own hen do. Despite the weather I had a great night regardless, got pissed quickly, didn’t slip over in the snow and managed to make the toilet to be sick, so all in all a good night. The hangover the next day was one of the worst I had ever had even worse than the most recent one after the girlie meal. I am usually bad anyway since getting older. When I was in my early twenties, I would go out all the time and still get up for work and apart from feeling a bit tired, was fine. Nowadays I crawled out of bed, usually to the toilet, where I spent most of my day being sick and lying on the cold bathroom floor tiles. Then around nine p.m. I’d start to feel better. That day I don’t even know how I got up and made it to breakfast. My sister and friends had all been to the spa already that morning and were sitting there tucking into a full English breakfast with mountains of toast. I couldn’t even face a drink, let alone food, but managed to force down a grapefruit segment and then rested my head on the table whilst the others finished. I was rough.
Last Minute Wedding Crap
From being a little girl, I always knew that the fourth finger on the left hand was where you wore a wedding ring. I can’t remember how I knew. My mum must have told me or I picked it up from TV or films, who knew. My innocent young self-thought that if you were wearing a ring you must be very happy with the person you were with as you were married and had found your soul mate and you lived happily ever after.
As I got older
