26 before 30

The giant clock is still ticking… my 20s are drawing to an end. Faster than I’d like. It’s strange, when you count-down your life like this, you realise how fleeting time is.

Which sounds profound. But all I’m really trying to say is don’t try this at home, kids. Unless you have a blowtorch unsupervised. That shit’s hilarious.

Right. Back to the 30 before 30 significant things:

Thursday the 14th was 26 days before my 30th…

I got to dress up in a pretty dress and heels… (oh those Goddamn heels) … and walk a red(ish) carpet at the Cosmopolitan Hottest Bar Tender event.

Let me just tell you a little story about these heels, kids. They are Zebra print… faux fluffy and everything. Freaking gorgeous. So gorgeous that they cost around R800 on SALE and I still bought them… in Aldo… in THAILAND… and carried them all the way home. The other thing about these shoes is that they go wonderfully with almost any outfit (Black and white stripes will do that to you. Black and white go perfectly together, fuck you Immorality act… if you add colours it’s even more gorgeous (hence my yellow dress) and my analogy of South Africa is complete). So yes. I had put these shoes on in the morning to compliment my ‘corporate’ outfit with a little bit of fun… (I say ‘corporate’ like I actually go to a day job. No. I had an audition where i had to DRESS like a corporate…) So then I was in the amazing shoes. Which MAYBE have a 25 min lifespan before the bones in your feet start shifting like Pangea and you’re left in agony and a Darwinan missing link candidate as your toes migrate all over. I was at the first appointment for 2 hours. *blam*

Then i had to go grocery shopping. In amazing heels. I felt like Carrie in Sex and the City… A little less City and a Little less Sex perhaps… but i was drinking cosmos as I walked. No. But I might do that soon.

Long story a little shorter. I’d been in these amazing heels ALL DAY and then i had to go to an event. My feet not only STILL have blisters on the toes and heels, but my ankles had started to ache from the angle that they were being twisted at (did I mention that these shoes are really pretty?!)

I basically had to stand stationary all night, as any movement made me wince, and my man friend had to CARRY ME ON HIS BACK (and by ‘had to’ i mean that he forced it upon me, mostly -i assume- because he figured that would be less dramatic than actually punching me in the face to make me stop whining) to get to my car at the end of the evening. Which was a pretty magical memory in and of it’s ironic self. Imagine an impeccably dressed male model (yes) with a girl in a VERY SHORT yellow chiffon dress on his back, her (very pretty) zebra print Aldo shoes are STILL on her feet and jutting out in front of them, like a stylish rickshaw. Her one hand is trying in vain to cover up her pink lace panties that are doublessly making their ‘out side of the bedroom’ debut to all the cars driving past looking at her bottom… as they walk about 500m. Giggling most of the way (between his grunts of pretending that this is nothing compared to gym).

Smiling through the pain. Just don't make me move.

I’d say that’s a pretty big win of a 26th last day of being in my 20s.

(Oh and the Cosmopolitan thing was pretty magical too. Incidentally I DID drink cosmopolitans, suck on that Carrie. Just kidding Carrie, don’t be sad. Here’s a carrot. Giddy up.)

*Make every day count*

#30before30

 

About YesReallyAngel

quirky, sardonic, sarcastic, ironic, satirical girl. Lover of marshmallows and high-fives.
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