They say you don’t know a good thing until it’s gone.
With every year that passes, there’s more that changes. There are things we grow out of and things we leave behind. The past two years have challenged every normal routine in our lives. It forced us to leave things behind that a lot of us weren’t ready for, or never expected to ever have to. Among the millions of things that weigh heavy on my chest that we’ve lost, I mourn the tradition of getting ready with my friends.
Don’t get me wrong, it was never fun to be the friend that had to tote their whole makeup collection and half their wardrobe to someone else’s room or house. I remember waiting for my arm to fall off my body as I carried my bags on my shoulder. Mostly because I always brought way more than I would ever need. Hey, you never know what can happen. The days that my room served as our own personal dressing room were the days I secretly celebrated.
The fun of it was in the bonding moments.
Like asking which top matched your shoes better. Or how you should do your hair, and what makeup look worked best. It was playing stylist and picking out your friends outfits while they chose yours. After all, you know each other better than anyone else. Clothes, style, hair, makeup- they’re all forms of self expression. Ask any fashion student, they’ll tell you all about it. It feels like your ‘look’ can make or break your confidence on any given day, so it takes a lot of trust leaving that to someone else. Yet, I remember trusting my friends’ selections more than my own most days.
The fun was in the laughs we shared.
The kind of laughs that leave you struggling to make a sound, fighting to breathe, only making you laugh that much harder. Or telling jokes and not being able to get more than a quarter of it out because it’s that funny, or at least it was to us. It was catching up on this week’s latest gossip and spilling everything. Let’s face it, we all do it. My collection of inside jokes is infinite at this point, and there are secrets that I still hold onto that will go to the grave with me. All from days and nights like these.
Some of my fondest moments, when I think about them, are the times I spent getting dressed up with my closest friends. Going way back to high school dances, one of my best friends’ bedrooms always reeked of hairspray. Someone was always begging for help applying an eyelash in one corner of the room. Another friend on the opposite side of the room, waiting for someone to curl her hair because she can’t reach the back. Nothing will match the stress and relief combination of 4+ girls trying to get ready for a formal. All using the same mirrors in the worst lighting possible and somehow still pulling it off. Not to mention the millions of selfies and group pictures that always followed. It was like our way of acknowledging our little ritual was over and we were ready to go out.
The past two years took a lot from us. There are countless formalities we’ve had to kiss goodbye. It’s been a trying time, you don’t need me to tell you that. Of course, there are more devastating losses that have come out of this, but I can’t help but miss getting ready with my friends.