I went to a party the other night… Wait! That sounds like the opening line of a song I remember from back in high school*.
Oh yeah, about that party. It was wicked. Rocky Horror theme; lot’s of alcohol and make-up and wild costumes and awesome music and wild dancing and more alcohol.
The girls insisted I dress up off course; not that I was gonna go naked. But I might as well have been. And what about that get-up they coaxed me into – yeah, literally. Lacy bra and tank top, lacy black stockings. And tons of make-up. Eye shadow, mascara, ruby-red lipstick with gloss and sparkles. I’ve always imagined make-up to be like a plaster caste, but it felt very normal.
That brassiere though was a tad tight. And my stomach didn’t flatter that tank top in any way. But hey, I was not about to lose weight for just one party, especially after working so hard to get it back up to my normal level after that gall bladder operation. Otherwise, everything felt very comfortable. Too comfortable according to the girls. But…. we live just once.
And there were some interesting props scattered around. Like this. Those hands are real, but no, they did not stay attached to the poster the whole night.
bizarre naughty like this. Yes, it had batteries, but just for the flashing lights inside. The guy who brought it, a Nederlander, partied with us till late and went on to ride a 94 kilometer cycle race the next day.
And some interesting people. Like this guy here. Oh wait, that’s just me. That’s not a wig by the way.
Who’d have guessed putting on make-up and dressing in women’s clothes could be so exhilirating and liberating. Definitely gotta do it again some time. Maybe with not so much alcohol.
* Harari Party by an African band called Harari with Sipho Hotstix Mabuse. Have a listen.