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Throwback Thursdays: Party Girl

October 28, 2010

In my heyday, I was formerly known as “Party Girl”.  There was another Cathy that ran in one of my circles and when someone needed clarification between the both of us, they would ask: “Cute Cathy or Party Girl Kathy?”.  Hmmm; to this day, I’m not sure if that’s a nickname to be proud of.  If I can dig up a decent picture that doesn’t show too much, I will update and post the picture.

My party days started when I was about 15 which was also the age that I first tasted the sweet wonderfulness that is called alcohol.  I also hung out with a lot of older people (19+) so it wasn’t uncommon to find me hanging out in overage clubs/bars either.  I was out every night except for Mondays which were considered my “rest days” and by rest days I mean rest for my liver because that was the only day that I wasn’t inebriated.   My party schedule was as follows (keep in mind that I was also in high school and worked part time):

  • Monday – hang out with friends at JDs
  • Tuesday – Chatters or Limelight
  • Wednesday – Fluid
  • Thursday – RPM
  • Friday – Phoenix
  • Saturday – Zoo Bar
  • Sunday – Phoenix

The clubs which I frequented changed over the years but I was always out from Tuesday – Sunday and every morning, I dragged my hungover ass to class for 8:50am and often went straight to work until about 9:30pm.  I survived on about 2 hours of sleep most of the time and probably very little brain cells.  How I graduated is beyond me; how I didn’t turn into a raging alcoholic is an even bigger mystery.  There were many a nights that I really didn’t know how I got home and I count my blessings that I was with good friends who looked out for each other.  Ok, so I once woke up on my front lawn but that’s another story for another day.

I used my sister’s ID to get into the clubs.  The funny thing is that in her ID, she had a pixie cut and I had long hair.  She also looked more chinese than me but I guess the bouncers let me in because I was a chick.  That, and dressing like a real hooch didn’t hurt and when I mean hooch, I mean a lot of my clothing consisted of cropped/low cut tops, extra short skirts or really tight shorts.  If a shirt was longer than my hips, I would roll it up to expose my torso.  If it was white, I went without a bra.  Clearly, dignity wasn’t at the forefront of my mind because I shamelessly stomped around in my hoe gear.  Did I use it to get what I want?  fo’ sho’.  When I realized that a little slut-wear made guys do dumb things – and by dumb things I mean buy me drinks all night or do stupid things for me – I totally used it to my advantage.  There was one whole summer that I only brought emergency money with me ($20 plus an emergency quarter) because I knew that we’d somehow flirt our way into the club without paying for admission or buying drinks all night.  It was great at the time but now, I get a little embarrassed whenever I come across pictures of my clubbing days mainly because of the way I was dressed.  Back then, I had the same mindset as all teenagers:  that you’re the shit walking around like you own the place.  However, having a child changes you; it gives you a sense of humility and in all honesty, makes you come to terms with the error of your ways.  It’s true what they say:  when you have a child, you want the best for them and the best for them doesn’t involve dressing up like a $5 hoor and parading herself around sleezy, slimebally men – who I swear, knew I was underage but didn’t care – just to get attention.  Those days, while fun back then, were not my finest.  If I ever saw Kayla doing that or dressed the way I was, it would break my heart.  And then I would whoop her ass.

So while I reminisce with fondness about those days those pictures will definitely be kept in the vault (read:  away from Kayla until she’s much much older, like when she’s 30).

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