The Bachelorette Party

So this weekend will be filled with boas, cocktails, and stripper poles...yes friends, I'm attending a bachelorette party!

Bachelorette parties in New York are a tad different than they are down South...for example, brides don't wear Life-Saver-covered tee-shirts reading "A Buck A Suck," praise God. Up here we don't try to make our party expenses back by whoring out the bride. Not that it's all that much more sophisticated...there are still plenty of humiliating bar "tasks" and of course the bride must distinguish herself with a veil of the cheapest fishnet quality. And in any region of the country, the evening will inevitably end with falling down, throwing up, tantrum having, drunken dialing - or some such combination of regrettable behavior.

Often the party attendees get roped into the trashy dress code and poor behavior, and while I cannot promise that I won't over serve myself, I have made it abundantly clear that under no circumstances will I don any trashy bachelorette attire. To put it simply: I am too old for puffy paint. Also, I do not wear wife-beaters in public.

And this is not a smug-married thing, really. Do you see how ridiculous these poor folks look? This is supposed to be your last hoo-rah, and you want to spend it in an oversized tee-shirt with condoms taped to your head and penises hanging from your neck...I can't think of anything sexier. I have never purposely gone in public looking like as asshole (that short stint in the pageant circuit not withstanding), and I will not do it on someone else's behalf! I just don't feel that you have any more fun in a bar when you look stupid. Sure, the bride needs to be recognized in some way, but the rest of the party members should look like regular bar patrons (or in the case of this weekend, a little better than regular bar patrons;-)

Of course that finds me once again in the struggle to look fabulous and hide my fat arms at the same time. It's my own fault I guess for breaking the cardinal rule of friendships and surrounding myself with people smaller than me. I mean not a damn one of em is bigger than a size 4...which I haven't worn since I was 3. Not to worry though, a little arm flab has never stopped my fabulocity (though I do need to invest in some sort of tanning situation because white flab is the worst). I would post pictures, but as you know- what happens at a bachelorette party, stays at a bachelorette party (men are confused enough as it is!)