K wanted me to wear a dress but as I didn’t feel comfortable I said no (that’s the kind of friend I am) and settled on “jeans and a nice top.” I was going to push the boat out and wear my nice boots but when I got them out of the cupboard they disintegrated in my hands.
Here’s the thing: it’s hard to dress up on occasion when you never ordinarily dress up. Let’s face it, I wear a combination of uniform, work out gear, and pyjamas, and sometimes two out of three at once. There’s not really space in my busy schedule for more. If I’m not flying, I’m on a mountain, and if I’m not on a mountain, I’m probably in bed. So my boots, nice that they were, once upon a time, had sat in that cupboard for the last year or two, gently rotting.
Having come to the conclusion that I couldn’t wear boots that were literally flaking apart in my hands, I had to turn to my reliable Converse. Except, even they weren’t Converse, being a €7 Primark knockoff. I know, I’m a terrible person, but needs must. High heels (the one pair that I own) weren’t going to match my jeans, and also I can’t walk in heels so there was no way I was going to actually make it to the theatre that way. RM Williams or Approach Shoes? No problem, kind sir.
I’m going shoe shopping today. (Too little, too late?)
Anyway... having settled on the Converse I figured I’d jazz it up a bit and wore make up and hoopy earrings and a bracelet and painted my hair pink at the front because, you know, if you aren’t trying 100% why are you here at all? And left the house in plenty of time to pick up K, who lives down the street from me, and across the bridge from the train station.
She wasn’t ready.
In fact, she wasn’t even dressed. And I was looking at my watch realising the train was leaving in 6 minutes and freaking the very *^%< out.
It does my anxiety no good at all when something is completely and utterly out of my control.
I made a lot of loud noises and a lot of “hurry up we need to go NOW” and dragged her kicking and screaming from the house (Slight exaggeration? Poetic license?) and drove at 90kmh over the 60kmh overpass because the train was leaving in 3 minutes, and as we parked in the carpark we saw the train coming over the hill. Cue a mad run to the the station and over the bridge and swiping my “Go Card” on the run without even checking to see if it worked, because I wasn’t missing that train for anyone. And we got on board, and K said “but if we missed the train I could’ve driven us so it didn’t matter” and my anxiety almost strangled her with its bare hands on the spot.
But thankfully my anxiety remained inside my body and breathed a little and managed to calm down and enjoy the rest of the evening.
We obviously weren’t allowed to take photos during the performance
And while we are talking about the rest of the evening, let’s talk about the Ballet. I really enjoyed the Nutcracker a couple of years ago and thought Cinderella would be the same: but I forgot that there’s very little in the story of Cinderella. Here we go:
Cinderella’s daddy marries an evil woman with two ugly daughters, and all three Nasty Females bully Cinderella and her daddy doesn’t stick up for her. A fairy godmother / queen / witch / something turns up and Cinderella is nice to her but the others are not. A prince throws a ball and the Ugly Stepsisters attend and Cinderella is not invited. The fairy godmother turns mice and pumpkins and things into a carriage and Cinderella goes to the ball, but she must leave by midnight. She only just gets away in time but drops a glass slipper (really? Glass? I can’t even look after pleather properly) and the prince goes around the houses afterwards trying to fit it on people (because he didn’t spend much time looking at her face? Typical male.). Cinderella eventually tries the shoe on, it fits, and he realises that she is the one. The End.
How long did it take you to read that? Now imagine it told through ballet, with no talking. Well, there was no talking in the description either, so that’s ok. The Ugly Stepsisters were well done and funny, the ballet part was fine too, but it was neither exhilarating nor breathtaking. There was nothing in the performance that said Wow. Nothing particularly memorable, and I’m sorry, but it needed that. They danced well, and yet was it with heart and soul? We are only talking about Cinderella, of course, maybe that doesn’t demand more. But it did therefore mean that I left with my heart and soul intact, and indeed feeling for the last half hour or so that I would prefer to be asleep in bed.
Once home, I remembered why I don’t usually wear makeup (how do you Real Females get the stuff off) and have probably left a ridiculous amount of pink on my pillow despite attempts to clean my hair.
It was an enjoyable evening out, and I’m not complaining, I’m just glad I don’t make an effort very often. Maybe I need some Classy Friends to teach me Class, or maybe it’s just better on the top of a mountain - where I’m not, as it’s raining, so I started reading the FCOM instead, but then got distracted by this blog.
You’re welcome.
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