My 25th Birthday

So I turned 25 last year and decided that this was going to be my last hoorah! I booked a reservation at a boujee Toronto roof top and forced all of my best girlfriends to come to Toronto to celebrate. I assured them I would provide bottomless Prosecco and I kicked my boyfriend out of the condo so everyone had a place to crash.

I got a fresh manicure, ensuring I picked the trashiest of hot pinks and I splurged on a $300 gold silk jacket. Excellent.

My girlfriends start rolling into the city and the festivities begin. Friday night wine and movies, a morning hot yoga class to detox followed by brunch and cocktails. It takes us about 4 hours to get ready for the night: shower, blow dry, flat iron, curl, flat iron again. Foundation, brows, lips then lashes. Girls just wanna have fun.

We head over to the dinner spot and start with two bottles of Prosecco, I am feeling so happy, I have my six best friends with me and an endless supply of bubbles, yes keep ‘em coming.

At one point a friend and I walk over to the washrooms and I’m feeling fly in my metallic gold silk but as I’m walking past the bar I feel a tap on my shoulder. Who? Oh dear lord it’s someone from work. Now for those of you who are NOT in Human Resources, you don’t get it but for those of you who are, you know that this is your worst nightmare.

Here I am in 6 inch heels, wearing a slinky dress and about a bottle of bubbly in, “HEYYYYY!” That was not the right response, so logically I ran away. Back to the safety of my entourage.

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