10 Signs That The Party Is Over

I love a good rark-up, me. Back in the days BC, it would take a week or so to get good and ready for a glam event. The timetable was rigorous, the event discussed to death, the anticipation an almost unbearable itch of excitement.

Regime (summer)

Day 7 - Shop for The Dress. Start inversely proportional diet and exercise regime (decrease food input for anti-bloating, increase wine input for training).
Day 6 - Shop for accessories for The Dress. Spend loads but end up borrowing stuff. (Things that were bought end up being lent or lost so it all works out).
Day 5 - Armpits, legs and faff waxed - just in case.
Day 4 - Begin gradual tanning process with moisturiser (am not a huge fan of instant spray tans ever since I watched myself develop while walking past shop windows in much the same manner as one watches a time lapse video of a pumpkin ripening. Somewhat alarming).
Day 3 - Facial. Hair cut and colour - lots and lots of colour. New lip gloss - lots and lots of gloss.
Day 2 - Pedicure, manicure, eyebrows, wash and straighten hair ready for curling (My hair is naturally curly. Why I flat ironed it so I could put curls in is one of the great mysteries of my PG existence). Make sure party feet, chicken fillets, extensions, pasties and Hollywood tape are all on hand (and if you have to ask what these are, you are not a PG).
Day of - Exhausted from regime. Tension almost at breaking point. Drink calming bottle of bubbly to wet party's head whilst getting ready for party.

I loved going out so much I was one of those annoying/brilliant (pick one) guests who always arrived on time and was the last to leave - mostly because I had a sneaking suspicion that the instant I was gone a stretch black Hummer would pull up and Prince would jump out. He'd then perform an amazing impromptu performance of the entire Purple Rain soundtrack before choppering everyone back to his ten star hotel room for a weekend of random debaucherousness. I never wanted to miss out. I always, always wanted the party to go on.

When it comes to popping sprogs however, the party you once knew and loved has to make way for a different kind of party - one with fairybread, face-painting and sticky-out tutu skirts.
So how do you know when the time is right?

10 Signs That The Party Is Over

1> You know what it means to check your undies for 'egg white'.

2> All your friends have babies. So do your younger siblings and your ugly ex-boyfriend. In fact, everyone you know has a baby and you're the only one in the whole entire universe who doesn't.

3> You 'forget' to take your pill. Every day. For months.

4> You're really, really sick of Auntie Flo and her bloody tedious visits.

5> The men you meet are assessed on their ability to provide, and their DNA handsomeness. Being kind and fun with a good sense of humour just doesn't seem to cut it anymore.

6> You hear an ominous 'tick, tick, tick' when you wake at night and there are no clocks, watches, crocodiles or ticks in the room.

7> You win a $20 voucher from Pumpkin Patch because you 'like' their store.

8> Staying at home with whiny, needy children is preferable to being at work with whiny, needy children.

9> You already have names picked out - including back-ups, alternative spellings, meanings, and where they stand on the Top 100.

10> Your parents make pointed remarks that include 'You're not getting any younger', 'We'll be dead soon', 'If you loved us...', and 'For god's sakes, what's wrong with you'.

Oh, and maybe one more.

11> Because your entire being is aching for a warm, snuggly little body to cuddle, one who smells like Johnsons baby powder, who coos delightfully and who will one day say, 'I love you, Mummy'.


Last drinks, ladies.