wine CHICK
text
AGNES PEILLET
Staying Out of
Trouble
The blondes set their
hearts on the same
semi-available, halfgood looking, 100%
douche bag.
Wine Chick discovers that sometimes V’day
is better spent at home.
S
kinny jeans are out. Let’s
drink to that! Trying to wriggle out of those suckers
when you’ve had one too
many is pure unadulterated
torture. Valentine’s day is out. Let’s
drink to that too! Trying to get a hot
date here in Toadville where the ratio of hot women to not-so-hot men
is about 10-1 is also torture.
Actually there is no need to ditch
the skinnies, nor to worry about
ways to wriggle out of them. When
life hands you lemons on V-day,
what do you do? Either you make
lemonade or, better still, you plan
an Under The Radar (UTR) operation
with girlfriends. At least that’s how
my blonde girlfriends and I did it this
year.
This Valentine’s, instead of the
usual all out shenanigans where
38.
the girls and I go out prowling the
local bars to satisfy our shiny object
syndrome, we went for a covert
operation at home. We stocked up
on chick flicks, kleenexes and beer,
drowned Gummy Bears in vodka,
played chubby bunny (that’s stuffing as many Marshmallows in your
mouth as you can without choking)
and ordered take out pizzas. Our
weekly girls night out turned into
a kick-ass pyjama party for grown
women.
WTF? — might you ask.
The essential background that provides the “why?” behind the “WTF?”
is exactly as you might imagine. Last
year’s drama-packed V’day.
The scene unfolded at Havanas
where the drinking, mingling,
people-watching and rating was on
full throttle and progressing nicely.
That is until the blondes set their
hearts on the same semi-available,
half-good looking, 100% douche
bag. Before you could utter the
words “female dog fight”, they had
started arguing over which one of
them should get the goods. Once it
was decided that it was every woman
for herself and may the best woman
win, they both went in for the kill,
at the same time. Like horny, I mean
hungry, hyenas bent over the same
carcass, they got physical, all teeth
and claws. Mean girl jokes started
flying, followed by some innocent
pinching and then some less-innocent hair pulling. Then hands got
involved. Needless to say we all went
home a bit bruised - figuratively and
I am ashamed to say literally too.
Complete disarray.
This year the social butterflies
(that would be us) recognised that
the fear of missing out (FOMO)
on the far out men (FOM) was far
outweighed by the fear of losing face
(FOLF) - again.
Let’s face it, what’s more mortifying than to hit Hipsterville Nairobi on
V-day with your girlfriends only to
bump into the usual Saturday night
suspects, all hooked up and then
having to fight over crumbs? Been
there done that. No thanks.
So what’s the skinny on skinnies?
Leave them hanging (in the closet).
Not because they are no longer cool
but because you don’t really need
them. When life gets boring here,
you can always trade them for a pair
of leopard pajama pants, pink bunny
slippers and some hearty bonding
amongst girlfriends.