There used to be a time in my life when the perfect weekend was judged by how much going out and partying I did.
Before heading out to the bars, I’d spend 45 minutes perched on the floor in front of my mirrored closet, drawing the perfect smokey-eye.
I’d painstakingly straighten my hair and pack a smaller bag with all the essentials: Gum, lip gloss, ID, debit card, done and done, let’s do this thang.
Then I’d go out, have too many G&Ts, and go to sleep just so, so that my makeup would still be perfect when I woke up to go to hangover brunch the next morning.
Nowadays, the perfect weekend is judged by whether or not I have to put in contacts and put on makeup. Glasses and a bare face all weekend? Then the weekend was a success.
(Of course, you know I still rock the smokey-eye Monday through Friday. Except now I make sure to remove my makeup every night before bed.)
(Oh, and this weekend was a perfect one.)
I can so get behind this. Aside from feeling slightly hungover on Saturday, this weekend was mostly perfect because I never had to put on pants that button OR do my makeup after Friday night! Win! It was amazing. While I sort of long to be able to stay out late like I used to, I so enjoy the way some unapologetic lounging feels! Weekends are too short!
Bob Dylan once wrote, “The times, they are a-changin.” Ron Burgundy had never heard that song.