My Mini Pan

Since unpacking, I keep discovering objects from my past apartment. Things that totally define a person that was cooking for one and living alone (i.e. only having 3 large drinking glasses… what was I thinking?).

Like this tiny little pan:

It is just big enough for one egg.

I love this thing. I have only used it to cook an egg or two at a time, but I am sure it would great to saute a carrot or heat up a single-serving of some sort of sauce.

Or make a mini-pancake.

Today I made myself the perfect little lunch- an egg white sandwich.

First, I cracked one egg white, and added some chopped onions:

One egg white with italian seasoning and black pepper.

I usually add salsa, but today I used this Italian bruschetta topping:

This is full of garlic. I love it.

Smoosh the two together on a toasted muffin:

Soooo simple, light, and tasty.

I also had a side of steamed green beans with chopped almonds:

Almonds are the best!

I’ve learned that you can pretty much chop any nut (peanuts, walnuts, almonds) to add a punch of protein and flavor to some veggies.

Enough about my uber-healthy meal, back to the cute tiny pan.

Speaking of cute (this is not very cute at all), but when I set up my computer I thought I’d browse to some pre-Mr.Speedy pictures of myself.

During my non-Mr. Speedy and I-only-use-a-tiny-pan to cook days:

I was just stuck in the rain aka my life.

And… this is me today:

I call this “Pensive Person.”

So- I look the same. Pretty much. Except I try to stay out of storms because I have a slightly irrational fear that my diamond will attract lightning and I am 5768 times more likely to be struck and get electrocuted.

This happens, right?

Anyways, back to the tiny pans. Mini pans are a necessity sometimes in points of your cooking life and hopefully, if you have one, it will bring you good fortune like mine.

After seeing my tiny pan, Mr. Speedy said-

“I think we might need to register for …. bigger pans.”

Yes. He is so smart and observant. A few of the many million reasons I am marrying him. But I’m going to save this little pan because one day a small child will appreciate it’s compact size and it will be perfect for pretend guitar playing. Or I can shove it my big purse and use it as a weapon against anyone that tries to mess with me. I will pan them in the face.

Does anyone else have a tiny kitchen device that they absolutely do not need, but love?

Sincerely,

Lily

Sneak Peak: The Love Nest

I’ve decided that my new home should be called The Love Nest for the following reasons:

• Love: Lots of love be happenin’ in this place-  not just between my mate and I, but we love the family heirloom furniture items that have been given to us and we love having our own fridge, full of runner’s eats and I love having my jar a PB that I can eat with spoon and contaminate with my slimy girl germs.
• Nest: I’ve always like the thoughts of calling your home, your nest. I don’t particularly like birds (mainly because they poop on me and shriek at me when I least expect it which makes me jump out of my skin) but the thought of snuggled up in a nest with your family members is a good one. Just say the word. Nest. It sounds nice. One sweet, simple syllable that is pure comfort.
• I can’t call it the Speedy House: This would make you think we are dealing speed or making speed. It sounds shady. And sketchy.

Anyways, Mr. Speedy has been out-of-town since Thursday morning (he comes home late tonight) for a bachelor party and I have been going CRAZY. So crazy, that I thought I’d share what the nest looks like through photos that I took this morning while in my robe.

And with my hair wet because I just ran and showered.

I also have to warn you there is a lot of ART and NUDE ART and well…. I love it but you might feel like you are in a museum a bit.

So please, enjoy the sneak peak of the Love Nest with a crazy lady who is not acceptable in public:

Let’s start with the GUEST BATHROOM:

Yo. This is me. No judging.

Fancy soap.

Fancy candels with fancy room spray.

The next room is the GUEST BEDROOM- it is not complete yet, other than I do have reading material neatly stacked for anyone that sleeps here:

Art. Novels. Read. Love it.

Next is the GREAT ROOM. It is big. There is a nude painting on the wall.

I just love that painting. It was originally in the dining room, but the Monet took over in there.

That TV…. was where I had the Monet originally, but I lost that battle.

In this room we have three lovely pieces of items that were from my Nonna’s estate – a mirror, a wooden cabinet, and that chair in the left corner:

The mirror is… to die for. I love it. We need to hang it up still.

Look at the framing! EEEEEK I am geeked.

The cabinet. We registered for some fancy bar items- glass tumblers and a cocktail shaker, etc. It will go in here. Ze Bar.

I love the wood and the fabric and everything about the chair.

Another angle.

All of the rugs are also from the estate and gorgeous Persian rugs. They are AMAZING.

I love the colors on these- bright but not too cheery. Just right.

They have full fringe on two sides.

There is a lot of NUDE ART in our nest.

This is because of the following reasons:

• I use to be a nude model
• I love art
• I think it is a fantastic way to start a conversation
• It adds a little subtle passion and romance into your room

My cousin sculpted this. She is extremely talented.

Eve by Rodin.

This is by Gustav Kilmt. I love her.

These are magnets on our fridge. I made them. I love them… and I am really weird.

Speaking of nudity, want to see our bedroom???

This is the only picture I have b/c NOTHING is done in there:

This is an unmade bed looking at a balcony.

Our master path, is just a bathroom and not nearly as fancy as the guest bath, so here is a picture of that cute litte Etsy ring dish I bought that I keep near the sink:

Hello, my favorite ring and necklace ever.

If you like art, you’d really like this place.

We have Girl with a Pearl Earring, Degas’ Dancers, and Monet’s wife in a field:

I accidentally chipped this at some point… it gives it character.

The dancers.

This was a gift from my Nonna years ago. It is a treasure.

This painting is very large. It is such a eye-catcher.

In conclusion, it really is coming along. I am excited to get everything in and settled. I am excited to entertain and host parties and use my fancy glasses and best hostess manners. I am excited to have overnight guests and have them use the fancy soap in their bathroom.

Life was good, but now it is so much sweeter making it with someone you’re planning to share your life with…. ::gushhhhhhhh::

I have to go eat some more PB out of my jar now. And try to figure out how to store 856 books.

Sincerely,

Lily-who-also-burnt-a-lightbulb-in-the-closet-but-can’t-change-it-and-needs-Mr.-Speedy-stat

A Sign That You Need a T.V.

In the midst of moving in together, Mr. Speedy and I realized that neither of us own a t.v.

Generally, this is not a problem because we really don’t ever seem to have time to watch anything. We literally have watched about 6 movies total in our relationship. We are usually running. Or I am reading. And he is using power tools to fix things.

But, let me ask you-

When you move into a new place with your husband-to-be, also known at the most attractive man you have ever laid eyes on, also described as a hunky individual who can melt you with one, piercing look-

And you, the wife-to-be, also known as his main squeeze, also described as the lovely lady with long legs that can make him drool-

When you move into together, and have no t.v., or internet, and end up staring for hours upon hours at each other and realize you are alone and clothes are optional-

What do you think happens to pass the time? Hmmmm?

I won’t go into further detail, but we (Mr. Speedy and I) figured it was time to purchase a t.v. because at some point, we will invite others over and they probably don’t want to join our optional clothing staring times.

So we went to Costco for the main reason that not only can you buy a large television but you can also eat dinner for $3.03.

I love this man… and how he is patiently waiting with our purchase as I get our dinner.

We love eating at Costco. Where else can you get a hot dog and pop for $1.50? Or non-fat yogurt in a large cup?

“When I was single, I used to come here for lunch and eat,” Mr. Speedy confessed.

I am shocked that he was not picked-up by a fellow female shopper. Remind me to personally thank all those ladies that passed him by.

Single no longer.

This is my favorite item to get:

Nom Nom Nom.

The t.v. box is bigger than I.

We brought our new electronic box home, set it up, and instead of running- relaxed and camped out on the floor (we still do not a couch yet), with large pillows:

You can barely see our feet in the corner… happily together.

The only downside of laying down in this position, is that it makes your body automatically want to go back into the starting-clothes-are-optional activity, which then causes you to roll around together, lips smacking, and unintentionally smoosh the DVD remote, turning off the entire movie altogether.

This is probably why we don’t go to the movies often. We get distracted by each other within an hour.

Anyways, today we are going to attempt to move a couch and mount the new t.v. on the wall.

Mr. Speedy, the stud, will use a stud finder.

Harharhar….. terrible joke. Sorry.

Hopefully no one gets smooshed, other than remotes.

Sincerely,

Lily

WINNER: Run Like A Girl

Sorry this is a day late…. moving is super busy and I have limited internet at the moment!!! Please bare with me. I mean bear.

________________________________________

Let me just say, I am going to start collecting used copies of this book to repeat this giveaway.

I am not joking.

Be patient- you’ll eventually win one… because you all deserve a copy. It is that amazing and so are you.

But, some lucky reader will get a copy right away…

I went online to a random number generator, plugged in the information. Prior to this, on all giveaways, I have been writing down every commenter’s name on a tiny piece of paper, mixing them all in a bowl, and selecting a winner.

I have no idea for the life of me why I did not think to use the all-powerful, all-knowing internet to generate a winner. Way easier. And there is no mess of paper shreds.

This is what the random generator selected:

Lucky comment #7….

The #7 comment on the giveaway, was –

OH MY AMAZING- I know for a fact that Ashley will ENJOY it and hopefully read every single page immediately. Her blog is here and it is a cute, fun-lovin’ blog to read. She offers great music choices, advice, and is honest and open. She is currently nursing her body back from an injury from running… and there is a whole section in this book devoted to that anxiety-filled, down-time.

CONGRATS, ASHLEY!

I have to go finishing packing/un-packing my entire life now. And then make-out with Mr. Speedy in our new bedroom for approximately 3546322 hours.

Sincerely,

Lily

A New Home

When I was little, I used to enjoy spending time in my room, reading or drawing, completely entertained by my own thoughts. Sometimes I would climb onto my bed, stand with my feet firmly planted on my pillows, and stretch my arms out, catching the window sill. In this extended bridge-form, I would stare into the surrounding homes, making up imaginary neighbors and with imaginary roles in their homes that were so close to mine.

The house directly facing my window was filled with a simple family of a husband, wife, and son. The son just so happen to be my exact age and very, very cute. I imagined that this boy was looking out at his window, and thinking about me, the sophisticated, cute girl who balances upon her bed like a prima ballerina just to mouth ‘HELLO, HOW ARE YOU’ in the window. I would do this for hours and hours, completely engrossed in my stories and convinced that yes- there was a very cute boy my age living in this house and yes- he was going to fall in love with me when I was an adult and we would have to decide to move into his house or my house.

Or we’d live somewhere in the middle, between our adjourning yards. This option never made sense though because there is a pool and I was not ready to live in a floating house boat. I already spent half of all my summers floating on a lake.

Other times when I was thinking about my romantic love affair with the non-existent neighbor boy, I would try to bring my drawing notepad with me in this awkward bridge position, to sketch what I saw, but that never worked out too well. I usually tried to sketch the big tree. Faint scribbles and lopsided lines were formed, and then the frequent-slip of the notepad, landing on the stiff, eggplant colored carpet.

When I think of home, this is it.

This is one of several million memories that floods my mind, along with smells, textures, people, and sounds. Some are silly. Some are sad. Some are funny. Some are pure embarrassment.

Like that summer, that one time that a neighborhood boy (a REAL one) invited my younger brother over to play basketball. I was young, probably in 4^th or 5^th grade, and just starting to have a crush every other day based off of two things – was he cute and did he smell. I realize now that this is extremely low standards for any modern women but when it is hot out, sweaty boy smells are simply repulsive and not attractive. Hygiene was important. That is ironic because this was also the beginning of a phase for me (that went well past middle school) when I considered swimming in the pool to be ‘taking a bath.’

Anyways, my younger brother got invited and I did not. Boy, if I could have puffed out sizzling steam from my nostrils, I would have produced enough for a freightrain. I was flat-out jealous. Left out and feelings hurt. Unnoticed by my new boy crush. I pouted and then came up with the brilliant idea to run after the two and give the boy crush I piece of my mind. Sprinting after them, I shoved my whole body into the back of boy crush (not very good dating tactics- attacking the one you like) and said that he was absolutely foolish (also not good dating tactics- using drama with big words that the general population does not use) for spending time with my absolutely dorky brother, who was not as old as I and not even allowed to check-out library books unattended  (also not good dating tactics- bragging about your ability to checkout library books).

As soon as I said it, I knew I was in the wrong.  I slapped my wide-open-I-can’t-believe-I-said-that mouth with my open hands as the boy crush started to stand-up, turned on my heel, and ran home like a whole herd of horses was chasing me. Crying, I immediately told my Pirate father what I did (my goody two-shoe conscience was unbearable), who then gripped me by my bony shoulder, marched me directly over to where the boys were shooting hoops (there were multiple crushes present now, from all four corners of the neighborhood) and made me apologize.

I then sulked all the way home, barricaded myself in my bedroom for 2 hours (which felt like an eternity) while doing penance, which consisted of standing on one foot at a time, staring at a boring, blank wall, and praying to God for forgiveness and to please send me a husband one day who will ask my brother to do things but also ask me to join. But please let us play something other than basketball, I hate basketball.

Embarrassment at its finest.

But this memory, and the ones perched on my bed, and doodling crooked trees, they all have an underlining hum that strings them together- they are all completely and utterly mine and I love them. The home that I know will always remain a very special place and nothing can touch that. Not ever.

Thoughts of leaving this home make my stomach turn a bit and if I contemplate all the family dinners or times the kitchen cabinets have unhinged themselves upon opening, threatening to puncture a gaping hole into my skull or all the nights my sister snuck into my room to sleep because she was scared and I always graciously hosted her, allowing her to camp on the floor with her own pillow (this seemed awfully kind and like a good deed at the time, but now I realize that was not nice at all, having her sleep on the floor next to the vast, scary, blackness underneath the bed), it makes me get teary and emotional.

I feel a bit like I am being pulled away from the my own skin.

Like I am shedding something that should not be shed.

But, I have to leave.

I have a new home to make with that man who God graciously still sent me after my terrible behavior. A man who not only asks my brothers to do things, but also includes me.

And luckily, we are not living in a house boat but renting a condo, perfect for a young couple who own no matching towels or fancy furniture, other than two beds, a few dressers, and a scraped up, old desk.

This is our Great Room. This furniture is not ours, but you get the picture.

Tomorrow, we get the keys.

When I asked Mr. Speedy if we can still go back to my house, to visit or stay the night, he looked at me and said in an assuming voice-

“Of course, I was planning on us still sleeping over. We can bring our air mattress.”

What a perfect answer. The man understands that I need to be weaned out of my parent’s house.

Fate.

If that is not love, then I do not know what is.

Sincerely,

Lily-who-is-nesting-with-Mr.-Speedy

Book Giveaway: Run Like A Girl

I’m giving away one (1) copy of this amazing book:

Run Like A Girl: How Strong Women Make Happy Lives

I fell in love with this book over two years ago, just after it was published in March 2011. The author, Mina Samuels (read about her here) writes from various voices- her own, famous female athletes, every day female athletes, sport medicine experts, and much more. Previously, she was a lawyer and then realized she wanted to write and needed to publish. I love authors who are from a completely different field of work. I think it adds some variety to their writing. She writes in a very factual, entertaining way that is full of statistics and interviews that will keep you reading.

She dives into WHY there is a pull, a need, to run or perform some sort of physical exercise. How does this exercise differ when females run solo? In a group? With a partner? What does training together do to a relationship? What does having an active lifestyle do to a person? How are they physically stronger in the end? Happier? Logical? There is a science to those endorphins released and Samuels hits the nail on the head explaining every little body benefit.

I love it.

I could go and on but the bottom line is that this book is a truthful read- perfect for any female (or male- guys can get some perspective too) athlete.

Because I love it and running and being a strong, healthy girl, I am giving you a chance to win a copy- all you have to do is comment below, answering this question:

What are yours plans for this weekend?

Are you going somewhere fun? Have any races planned? Are you planning to drink wine and read books and relax? Just leave your comment (be sure to be logged in or enter email) and you are in the running (no pun intended) for this wonderful book!

Winner will be announced Friday, July 19th by 8pm Eastern Time. Only one comment per person!

Friday Fun Facts

HAPPY FRIDAY!

Here are some fun facts that are currently going on in my life:

1. Marathon- Thank you SO much for the feedback. I am still undecided, which is normal. Decisions are big for me.

2. I am mainly undecided because the next few weeks will busy- ya know, nailing down important wedding things (NO BIG DEAL) and trying to move in with Mr. Speedy and start co-habitating (EQUALLY NO BIG DEAL).

3. This pillar candle has an amazing scent. Truly. It is my new favorite. I got it for Christmas from my future MIL (that is slang for mother-in-law).

It smells sooooo good. Fresh. Clean. Slightly flowery.

4. I have been writing articles for a monthly newsletter at work. I finally got in contact with the person in charge of this project, who is in ITALY and named LUIGI and realized that my little articles are traveling worldwide around the globe for this corporation. Huh. I had no idea. I feel like I have a tiny footprint globally now. And now I want some pasta. And wine.

5. I have been getting spam real mail about wedding things- venues, dress shops, rentals, photographers, etc. How on earth did this happen? Really. Stop. I love getting REAL mail and to keep receiving these offers just makes me so dissappointed. They are almost as bad as bills.

No thank you.

6. Last night during our run, I totally checked out Mr. Speedy’s butt and legs the entire time.

7. Speaking of his legs, that reminds me of this picture which then reminds me that I want to have children with this man:

Drool. Drool…….

8. This also makes me want to bear his children:

His nieces and nephews just love him.

9. Actually, this makes me want to have his children too:

He ha the best legs and arms…. and torso, butt, and all other spots.

10. Today my blogging friend Brittany blogged about something I mailed her. She also makes note that she is planning an EPIC trip to visit our other blogging friend Megan and they are going to road-trip it up to MI for my wedding. This is why blogging friends are amazing:

• We have never met, yet they were instantly on the guest list for the wedding.
• We really do KNOW each other…. but don’t. But do.
• You can get to know other people who are just as awkward and weird as you and imagine retiring together and living in a big house with lots of PB (that just might be me…)
• SERIOUSLY THOUGH…. check out their blogs. Amazing. Funny. Fit. Healthy. Attractive. So much.

I already have special items to give them. I can’t waittttttttt!!!!!!

11. It is official- we are going back to Mackinac Island this fall and staying at the Grand Hotel. If you do not know this place I speak of or historical place to sleep, please google it. I can’t wait.

yayyyyy!

12. This picture makes me hungry- for an omelet and for him- RAWR:

Uh….. I keep drooling.

13. I have to apologize that 99% of the facts involve this man. This is because we are apart and have been since approximately 5:30 am when he ventured out with my Pirate father and his father (who is visiting!) and went fishing. Apparently, when I am not in close proximity and attached to his hip, I like to babble on about him and look at pictures. IMAGINE THAT.

14. My baby toenails are missing.

15. Pots. Pans. Crock pots. Garlic press. Hand towels. We are starting our registry and the whole process is very interesting because I DON’T KNOW WHAT TO REGISTER FOR OTHER THAN WINE GLASSES AND A VACUUM. And napkin rings because they are very fancy and make tables look elegant.

Help.

16. We are going to a wedding this weekend which will be #4 this year. We will have 4 more. We are expert attendees.

17. I have been attempting to teach myself fake calligraphy using a very inky pen so I can make super fancy wedding invites. I don’t think it is working.

Do you think Bragelina will show up?

Just for the record, I would not want Anna Nicole Smith as a guest.

18. Brad and Angelina can come but only if they dress in thick rags and have no makeup. The Prez can come too. No secret service allowed.

19. I think I am going to go running now.

20. Scratch that. Lay by the pool and read.

♥

Sincerely,

Factual Lily

Help: I’m in a Marathon Pickle

I am trapped in a pickle- a marathon pickle to be exact.

And I need your help because I really do not know what to do.
Please read… or just ignore my words and wish me luck.

AHEM-

I have only ran 1 marathon in my life and that was last fall in Detroit.  I huffed and puffed my way to the finish line and qualified for Boston by 1 WHOLE WHOPPING MINUTE, at a 3:34:00:

My first marathon… this was at the half way point and I had a very mean face and was on fire.

Fast forward to present day:

Since I only qualified for Bosty 2014 by 1 minute, that means I am in the last wave to register when it opens up online. The waves go by 5 minute intervals from the qualifying time, so for my group (need 3:35:00 or faster) it includes everyone from 3:30:00 to 3:34:59.

This makes me nervous. I have a sinking gut feeling that it is going to fill up before I get to sign up online, suggesting that I should try to run ANOTHER, better, marathon time before the cutoff- September 15, 2013.

That is roughly 10 weeks away.

August marathons, in this area, are HOT. So no.

Labor day weekend, Mr. Speedy and I have a wedding. The weekend that the time is due- Sept. 15th- we are planning to go to Nebraska.

This only leaves September 8th weekend open and I found a marathon in Canton, Ohio (about 4 hours away) that I could run.

So my pickle is-

Do I start a 9 week training program now and run the marathon and hope to shave off at least 5 minutes?

Or do I sit tight with my current qualifying time and hope to the Running Gods I get into the race?

I am currently running about 50 miles a week, and could race out a half-marathon no problem. This is good.

However, I have not done a run longer than 14 miles for…. quite some time. Not so good.

If I start training now, I am miserably prepared to give up the following:

Goodbye my love. I’m whining about the wine.

This is just an image of me slightly tipsy from day drinking. NO DAY DRINKING ALLOWED.

Sweet tower of sweets… You are sweet. But I can’t have you on my hips or thighs.

May I join you? Oh wait I can’t… because I have to run forever.

That last image could be interpreted that I am giving up Mr. Speedy OR giving up being in bed with Mr. Speedy (UM THAT BED OF SWEET SWEATY PASSIONATE LOVE… never mind… sorry), but I am simply giving up SLEEPING IN LATE with Mr. Speedy.

Which apparently I already have done since I was able to snap this picture while he was still asleep.

Anyways, marathon training is no joke.

If I seriously want to get my time down, I am going to have to buckle down to the sandstone for the next 9 weeks.

Mr. Speedy votes a big fat YES to this Ohio marathon.
Pirate votes a big fat WHY THE HECK DO YOU RUN SO MUCH to this marathon.
I vote… YESSSSNOOOYESSSSSNOOOOO.

Pickle pickle, I am stuck in a pickle.

What do you think??? Ahhhhhhhhh!

Love,
Marathon-Yes-No-Lady

P.S. I have decided that running in the humidity makes you by far the most unattractive thing on the planet. That is all.

DOES RUNNING MAKE ME ATTRACTIVE!?!?!

Summer Reading

There is something completely delicious about reading in the summer.

I went to a bookstore on accident the other day. I say on accident, as in I had a hair appointment and then was meeting a girlfriend for dinner but had about 45 minutes to kill between the two and accidentally ended up in a store full of glorious books and a few of them jumped off the shelf, screaming to come home with me and be read.

And I accidentally bought them up, forgetting about the whole saving-for-a-wedding thing for just a moment.

This type of accident happens a lot to me… but it is the best kind of accident:

My current book list for the summer.

Summer reading, hands-down, is the BEST.

I think it might be because in the summer you can read outside. It is more relaxing. You can enjoy the weather and a cool drink and just get completely lost in words.

I like to layout, drink in hand, and read away while working on my non-existent tan:

Laying out on my deck.

Or I enjoy reading on the patio-
and pretend to flip through a magazine…
while my stallion of a man prepares the grill:

I wasn’t really reading here… I was stalking his back and butt with my eyes.

If you asked me the title of that magazine, I honestly could not tell you.

But if you asked me how many dimples and dips are in Mr. Speedy’s sculpted shoulders and back- I could tell you.

I also love reading the Sunday paper with coffee:

I love LOVE the house section. I do not know why, but I love reading about homes, interior design, and decor.

I also love reading the ‘help’ section where people write in, saying ‘My life is horrible. I have over-active sweat glands and I am fighting with my father and want to run away and I don’t know what to do career wise.’ And then the wise lady writes back, basically saying ‘TOUGH SHITOCKI. EVERYONE SWEATS. STOP FIGHTING AND GET A JOB.’

I love the advice column. I feel like that would be a fun job, giving out wisdom from the safety of a press.

But, I digress. I love summer reading.

And I want to desperately start a book club. Anyone want to join my club of one?

I will serve snacks and wine and we can debate over character development and plot. FUN X 09287029754. Think Jane Austen Book Club minus the messy relationships and only Jane Austen.

Sincerely,

I-Want-To-Make-A-Book-Club

No One Told Me

I was just browsing old pictures on the computer and came across this gem:

Do you see what I see?

I think I was distracted by the ceiling, which apparently, was distracting and terrifying me.

But, do you see anything the matter with me? Perhaps, my outfit?

I find it interesting that my sister let me borrow this dress for a LBD party we were invited too but failed to TELL ME THAT IT WAS SEE-THROUGH AND SLIGHTLY INAPPROPRIATE.

I mean really-

Not even my Mother said anything!

How did I not notice this sheer area at the hip/pelvic region?

How did I not get noticed by another girl in the group that would have told me politely ‘EXCUSE ME, BUT YOU ARE LOOKING SLUTTY- YOUR PANTIES ARE SHOWING.’

Thank geeeeeee I had black panties on…. or panties at all for that matter. I would have pulled a Britney Spears before Britney pulled one.

Has anyone done this before?

In all honestly, having a sheer area on my dress right near my nether regions was just foreshadowing the rest of this night.

It was a bachelorette party for my cousin and after a yummy Mexican dinner, we drank at a friend’s house, piled into a mini-van and made our way to a club. I, being a naive non-drinker, thought I’d be bold at this party. I downed 5 (or 7?) shots in-between quick sips of diet coke. It was all warm and fuzzy and grand until I got into the dimly-lit club, fruity drink in hand, and was surrounded by swarming, sweaty hooligans and flashing lights.

I spent the remainder of the night heaving into a toilet while my sister held back my hair and chatted with bride-to-be (I had a great support system in the stall with me). I don’t remember what they chatted about but I do remember every time one of them asked me how I was feeling, I just grimaced at my projectile vomit and said-

“It was that darn Mexican. That was it.”

Apparently, I blamed the tacos for my behavior.

I’m really grateful I had them around to help me but really- did they not notice my strip of sheer material???

Note to self: Always check clothing from all angles before going out in public. And don’t drink shots. Ever.

Those party days are over now.
And by party days, I mean just that one day.
I don’t think I have drank a shot or been to a club since.

Sincerely,

Lily