Thursday, October 31, 2013

Trick...or treat...or trick...

In my old age- you know, 29?  I've become somewhat of a homebody.  When I was younger, you couldn't even FIND me on a Friday night.  I remember just always having plan or always working or SOMETHING.

Now, I look forward to nights at home, yoga pants and my husband's t-shirts.  I'm tired.  It's been months since Liam has slept through the night.  Andy has spent the month of September just working non stop and then he went away last week for 5 days to hunt.  I won't lie- there are moments I feel like a single mom.  I've come to accept this, because I don't know what I thought this point of life would be like.

The thought of leaving Liam if I don't absolutely HAVE to, just tears me up inside.  At the moment, I'd like to go on a date with my husband.  I'd like to sleep un-interrupted.  But the thought of leaving Liam with my parents for ONE more moment, just seems unfair.

When Andy was away last week, a friend invited me to a Halloween party at a local bar.  Want to hear how stupid I am?  Yeah, when her text came through, I started to cry.  Like, actual, roll down the face tears.  There's no way I was going.  I text my husband- there's this party.  I'm not going though.

He encouraged me (from his tree stand in North Carolina) to get up and get moving.  He wanted me to go to this party.  More tears.  Thank goodness we were chatting over text, because I was a hot mess.  Over a text.  About a party.  My anxiety was SO HIGH, I could barely contain my emotions.

A few deep breaths later, and I was making phone calls to procure a costume.  I borrowed a wig:

 I bought some false eyelashes and some red lipstick- for a *cough cough* NATURAL blond to make a black wig work, I had to change my whole facial color scheme. I came up with this:

And then this happened:

I sent a picture of myself to the Man in the Tree Stand, and he was like, "WOW, you look INCREDIBLE."  I did, didn't I?  Like an awkward middle schooler, I tried posing in the mirror.  I practiced smiling (not too big, not to small).  I put on high heels for the first time since June, since the MS came to town (my leg was SCREAMING at me, but I told it to shut up.)

My son wouldn't come to me!  Liam was so freaked out, he hid his face in my mom's knee.  Normal people didn't recognize me- I was THAT convincing.

I get to my friend's house- she's a slutty gangster.  Her friend shows up- she's a slutty cat woman (whip and all).  And you know what they said to me? 

"You.  Look.  ADORABLE!!!!"

Adorable.  Nobody told slutty catwoman that she was adorable, I'm sure.  But me, Libbie, who had to completely reinvent herself and also try to mask a right leg limp, well I'm adorable.

I drove myself to the party- no need to wait for someone to sober up to take me home.  Plus it was already 10 when we got there.  I turn into a pumpkin at like, 8.  The party boasted everything you NEVER wanted to see in spandex.  And apparently you can show a little cleavage and make ANYTHING into a costume.  I saw "Slutty Dorothy," "Slutty Farmer,"  "Slutty 80's Gal," "Slutty Super Woman"...  Should I go on?  The club has two floors, one being a loft type setup, and so everyone on the floor could look up, and everyone on the loft could look down...

A group of 40 somethings had checked their inhibitions along with their coats, and were making fools of themselves against a wall to my left.  A male dressed as Barney on my right was enjoying the twerking of his tail by EVERY woman past 3 drinks.  It was attractive.  And then there was this guy dressed as a farmer (Amishman?) And he had NO RHYTHM (did you know every time I type the word "rhythm" I say "Rhythm Helps Your Tired Hips Move"?  It's the only way I can remember how to spell it...)  He was sort of swaying, sort of, over to the "Slutty Mermaid" with the blue hair who was evidently part of our group.

I knew nobody, so I swayed to the music and gawked at people and thought about how I would blog about this experience.  The DJ asked me what I'd like to hear, "Anything!  Just name it!"  I requested "September" by Earth, Wind, and Fire.  (My small family always dances to that in the living room at home.)  "Are you kidding me?"  The DJ asked, "How does anyone dance to that?"  And then proceeded to play something else that I didn't know.  Why did he ask if he didn't want to know?

Around 11:30, and two beers later (oh, I didn't drink them, they were spilled on me) my leg was screaming and so were my feet.  I motioned to the gal I came with, "I need to leave.  I'm exhausted."  And I was.  Exhausted and adorable, with apparently bad taste in music.  (?)

When I got to my car there was silence.  My ear drums were bursting from the club.  I got home in time to hear my son awaken for the first time...and then the second time.  And the third time.  But secretly I was proud of myself.  I went out with "the girls" and stayed for more than 30 minutes, and I dressed up and I wore heels.  There were many personal battles fought and won that night that nobody even knew about.  Maybe I'll go back next year with my OWN group of friends.

Maybe I'll keep the wig until my husband comes home... ;)