I'll have whatever you have come on, just give it up girl

The beat was pumping; the groove was strong, bodies pressed against one another. In their skimpy skirts and revealing shirts, the girls of the night were dressed to kill. Well, except for maybe that weird guy in the corner with the facial hair who kept twitching occasionally as he sipped his drink quietly and gawked… awkward.

Okay so maybe not everyone was dressed to kill.

Let’s see if I can paint a picture for you. I’m a slightly overweight…....okay moderately overweight…... alright I’m a fat kid who’s very insecure in a club/bar setting. So instead of slipping into the tightest clothes possible...

Oh you all know the story, overweight girl squeezes into skirt she shouldn’t be wearing that’s about 4 inches from her kooter with cellulite thighs jiggling when she walks and a top that exposes the flabby arms (that’s she also shouldn’t be wearing.) Yeah, that story. Are you repulsed yet? I am.

But not me, no, I wore a long sleeved knit charcoal sweater that buttoned with 3 buttons into a V-neck, under I was wearing a tank top with bra built in (no really, there’s like a bra sewn into the tank top) and then another tank top over it. A pair of jeans, and combat boots, yes I wore combat boots to a club, where usually you’re supposed to dress to impress and by guidelines that mean you are not supposed to be even remotely comfortable. I was.

My first drink of the night was a shot of Jager. First of all, that drinks taste like black licorice. Have I mentioned I absolutely despise black licorice? So drink one was followed by drink 2, because obviously 2 follows 1… Blow job, which I was then handed black label whiskey, which I drank… and liked. Followed by another shot of Jager and then sex on the beach… this coming from the girl who had one Chocolate Martini got tipsy a few days ago?

So after this I was feeling… That whoever decided to put stairs in a bar was a fucking moron… Then one of my friends decided pouring beer down my shirt would be good. So I smelled of beer and my cleavage was sticky… How’s that for dressed to impress?

So the beat was strong, and for the first 10 minutes I felt out of place and lost, after the third drink I was feeling a bit better, the 4 drink was awesome. But I do need to learn to grow some balls and tell people to move. Because squeaking, “excuse me” isn’t going to get people out of my way.