This is the year of the 40th's in my circle of friends and we kicked off last night with a girlfriend's 70's Disco party. They had decorated with mirror balls and mirrored walls and coloured lights, the food was 70's style with vol-au-vents, pigs in blankets (the prune wrapped in bacon thing), jelly moulded guacamole, cheese fondue, lasagna, and a whole heap of other fun things. We drank waaaay too much bubbly, laughed at each other's outfits, admired the guy's porn star moustaches, danced to some great 70's music and had a total blast.
I've woken up this morning to the startling realisation that while I feel like I'm about 28 my body is, in fact, heading for 40. Oh my aching knees after dancing in wedge heels all night long. Oh my aching head after one, or possibly two, too many glasses of champers. And oh my poor hair. I tried to do the Farrah-flick with not a great deal of success. Three different sets of curlers and half a can of hairspray later it looked not all that different to how it does every single day. Just a lot more gunk in it. Oh well, we've a few more 70's parties to get through so by the end of the year I might have managed to work it out.
Here's me and my man in our very glam disco gear. I'm loving his open neck shirt, medallion and hairy chest! I'm not quite so sure about the mo, but then again I haven't actually seen his naked chin in about 12 years so it's all a bit of shock.