I’m looking forward to tomorrow evening. A group of friends and I are going to a Greek bar called Byzantio that features belly dancing on Thursday nights. It’s definitely an atmosphere I have yet to experience — I’ve been to clubs with hip-hop music raging in the background, but Mediterranean music? It simply sounds delightful. The bar also doesn’t ask for your ID when ordering alcoholic beverages so I expect my friends will be drinking, perhaps a lot. So the question remains — Who will be the designated driver?

Unlike most of my friends, I’m not an ardent alcohol consumer — Every once in awhile, I’d have a glass of Cabernet Sauvignon or, even less frequently, some beer. Hence, I don’t mind being the designated driver again; however, I don’t want to be restricted to not being able to have any alcohol due to the predisposition that I am always the responsible one. What if I’m inspired by the environment and am compelled to indulge in a fruity margarita? Or if someone offers to buy me a drink, would my response have to be “Sorry, I’m baby-sitting my friends you see intoxicated and disoriented in that corner over there?” I suppose their safety matters more to me than a glass of fermented carbohydrates, which is why when Elena called about the driving contention, I volunteered without hesitation.

Tonight, 9 high school friends and I enjoyed a catch-up dinner/chat at Panera Bread. The main topic presented was how absolutely old we are getting. The feeling of old age doesn’t quite hit you with a WHAM until you realize “Wow, so-and-so got married this past Saturday” or “Yadda-yadda is engaged to blah-blah-blah.” One-forth of my life is over! Hopefully, the remainder of my life will be more productive than the rut I’ve been leading thus far — More fun, more mirth, more loving, more living.

What proceeded was a discussion of plans for tomorrow night to Byzantio. I was advised to wear a “figure-hugging” outfit, preferably a dress or skirt, because I have a “bombshell hourglass figure” that they “would give anything to have.” They demanded that I find an outfit tonight and send them a picture and added, “We’re going to make sure you look hot.” Although I appreciate their concern, I’m capable of sprucing myself up. Ah well.

Since my revelation that my mother’s skewed conviction of my body image should not become my assessment as well, I haven’t had the chance to purchase any dresses and/or skirts, and unfortunately, I left many of my accouterments at my friend’s apartment in Austin. I did, however, find 2 ensembles that I think are potential contenders.

The first one appears to be slightly flashy and juvenile with all the butterflies on the bottom. I did, after all, purchase this dress back in 7th grade. Perhaps it’s even a bit unchaste, to put it lightly, since I know my younger sister reads my blog.

The other ensemble seems more sophisticated but almost too austere. Although, wearing this would ensure that no one will attempt to importune me or buy me a drink! There’s undeniable evidence that the majority of men who step inside a bar scan through the entire scene for the most lascivious female character for a quick fix; few actually look for a lasting partner in such an environment.

Thus, the latter dress seems to be more appropriate. Wouldn’t you agree?

Alas, it is time for bed. Au revoir until next time!

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