This past weekend I slid my dancing shoes on to my feet, crammed my mid-section into a pair of spanx, and clipped a pile of fake hair to my head. I would have also glued a bunch of fake eyelashes to my face, but I ran out of glue. As I recount all of the torture devices I required just for a night out, I am reminded as to why I often spend Saturday night on the couch (and how ridiculous my going out preparations really are). Side note...the hair extensions aren't actually torturous to wear. It's just an odd feeling to double the amount of hair on your head. It often feels like a cat is sneaking up on you.
