How to Blow the Budget and Terrorize the Teenage Porter

So we Sat and Sipped and Talked. It was a bit of a theme really. Our caffeinated conversations were kinda like punctuation marks between each frantic bout of ‘Doing Stuff We Can’t Do at Home’.
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Stuff like:
Shopping at Myers and generally Buying Stuff for Ourselves

There was a 25% off sale at Myer… a temptation too good to resist and some of us went OFF… Hello “Jennifer”!!
(my haul: 2 bras, 1 foundation, 1 set PJs… I set the place on FIRE! Or not.)

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Stocking up with quirky stuff for the gift cupboard
(something I’ve started since moving to GG – birthdays seem to sneak up on me.)
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Having pedicures

(OK just me indulging here, please ‘scuse the spastic toes! My first ever french pedicure! Hope the horses and puppies enjoy and respect the view…)
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Dining out
(this is my absolute specialty! We ate it too fast to take photos… sorry. *Burp!*)

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Terrorising the resort porter
(a very sweet teenage guy who was landed with the job of escorting six very loud Desperate Housewives to and from their apartment in a golf cart… long-term therapy may be required).

I decided not to embarrass him any further than he had already endured… so here is an image of the cabin we stayed in instead of a snap of poor sweet Jason. It was very spacious and spesh. And there were no close neighbours. For which everyone (I’m sure) was thankful.
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This amazing retail outlet offered “legal highs” and “aphrodisiac” as well as being “harmless” and “hippy”. Uh huh!

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Trying out cocktails without guilt over being ‘designated driver’(Ah, I remember when they were a regular theme in my life – how motherhood changes things!)
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and Sharing our ‘drug of choice’:
the White Sunglasses
These white sunnies were purchased as a joke by one of my glamorous SIL’s (above). They are enormous Paris Hilton style plastic sunglasses. But they quickly became our Girls Group signature “look”… we all tried them out and a great many strangers who wandered naively into our radar zone were also called on to try them on. The effect was almost instantaneous. People went a bit silly. Perhaps it was the anonymity behind these giant lenses.

Perhaps it was the Paris factor (or not! Dear me, who IS that poor woman? Oh. Me. I thought I looked much more sultry that that!).

Whatever. It worked.

The Fun Factor was sorted. And our girls worked it to the max.

‘Jen’ – who in real life is very shy and retiring – had trouble keeping the paparazzi away!

Our Paris girls convinced band members to wear the sunnies, and then strutted their stuff on stage accompanied by some tambourine action…

They even convinced their taxi driver to wear them at 3am. I hope he could see where he was heading! Looking good, mate!
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It was silly. And fun. And rejuvenating in an exhuasting kinda way.

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In many ways, as I reflect on our getaway, I am struck by the contrast in my approach to activities that (less than two years ago) were on tap. When I lived in the city, the nearest beauty salon was just 50 metres from my house. The nearest boutique just 1 km. The nearest Myers, only 10 minutes drive. The nearest band venue, just 1 km. And yet I barely visited them. I’m not a shopper at heart and my hard night’s out vanished with the arrival of children. None of these places held any real allure for me any more.
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But now having limited access to such luxuries, and non-essential services, has changed me. I still don’t love shopping, but there is a sweetness to a short burst of this self-indulgence that just didn’t exist before. Knowing that it could be many months before another opportunity arrives, sharpens the senses and distills the experience.

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Knowing that the chance to just be a Girl (not a Wife, not a Mum, as sweet and amazing as those roles are) was a reminder of who I am. A Woman. A woman whose feet really needed some attention! And who can make purchases in four locations within 10 minutes when push comes to shove.

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And a woman who still isn’t overly keen on deafening bands and competing with hordes of teenagers for a place at the bar… Seriously, if any of our hubbies had walked into that joint, they would have been the biggest hotties there. By a street. Or the proverbial country mile… I know I wasn’t the only one muttering under my breath:

Thank God I am married!
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We made it to our respective homes on an average of just four hours sleep a night each. I think the Sunshine Coast has been left relatively unscathed (with the possible exception of our Novotel porter).

Six women slept pretty well on arriving home.

Six husbands are slowly recovering.

As are six households.

One child’s fringe will eventually grow back.

Our credit cards will cool down in a few weeks.

And my pedicure may not last too much longer (the puppies could soon see to that!).

Geez… but it was worth it!

Thanks girls…