2018: Day One

2018 has already been so eventful for me, namely, in that I attempted to give myself a Brazilian wax at home today, 1/1/18. I have a lot of mixed emotions. Am I proud of myself? Yes. Do I regret it? Absolutely. Now, my nether regions are oh so cold.

 The always tasteful red Solo cup.

The always tasteful red Solo cup.

I rang in the New Year with a combination of: one person I knew really well, two people I kind of knew, and then a lot of people I didn’t know at all, though, I think that’s how most celebrations go. I had fun (there was an open bar)! The only major downer of the evening was I thought that I had a major breakthrough in my relationship with Vodka, but then I realized that I was just drinking off of the top where all the cranberry juice was, and that’s why it tasted so good. Sad!

As the clock ran out on 2017, I gazed around the room wistfully, finding comfort in the displays of young love. Just kidding! I leaned against a pillar and chugged my drink while everyone made out around me, and I texted my boyfriend that we were now in two separate years, like The Lake House, a reference he did not understand. I was planning to give my friend a platonic New Year’s kiss, but then he ran off down the street to go make out with someone. If I can’t be happy, no one can be (both a 2018 resolution and the title of my upcoming memoir).

 Anna's Life After the Plaid Pant Suit.

Anna's Life After the Plaid Pant Suit.

Another fun part of my night was that I was hobbling around because I sprained my ankle on Saturday. I will not tell you how, why, or when, but I can assure you that it happened, and that I was very dramatic about it. A great bonus is that I had the privilege to go to Duane Reade and purchase a sexy ankle brace. RIP to my chunky black velvet boots which will not see the light of day for some time.

The reason New Year’s Eve was worth all of the freezing cold air, awkward small talk, and foggy glasses, is because I was wearing a bitchin’ pant suit. It is plaid and I got it for Christmas. I feel like my life has split into two: Anna’s Life Before the Plaid Pant Suit, and Anna’s Life After the Plaid Pant Suit. I almost wore a silver skirt and a tank top in order to blend in with the masses, but I figured now was as good a time as any to announce my candidacy for the presidency in the 2020 election.

To sum it all up: Beware of DIY Brazilians, get a friend who will carry your dramatic ass home when you sprain your ankle, and swap your latex for wool plaid suiting.