or this
or this
I've been thinking about my own Debs night as a result of all this. It was all going according to plan for me up until five days before the night, when the aforementioned boyfriend decided to break up with me. I luckily had a good friend who acted as my back up date, but as I was so busy I never really even thought about the fact that I was now 'going through a break-up'. Consequently, my debs night was basically me in a full length Roland Mouret ball gown, pissed on gin, smoking and insulting people. The same 3,000 euro ball gown later fell apart on the dance floor, turning it into a see through mini-dress.
''It's supposed to be like that'' I slurred at my sober friends.
Thankfully I bought the dress for just 150 euro. It still hangs limp and sad in two pieces in my wardrobe as a reminder of what not to do on your Debs night.
To add to the humiliation, I woke up in my ex-boyfriend's house the next morning. Me and his sister had decided to have a sleepover for old time's sake apparently.
Ah the Debs. A great Irish institution. I'm incredibly glad I have a second chance.
