Party prep and heel negotiations

Carmen’s turning twenty-eight tonight and apparently that means cocktails at some new place downtown with a name I can’t pronounce.

Party prep and heel negotiations

The getting-ready process has become this whole production lately - when did I start caring this much about whether my eyeliner looks symmetrical?

Jake’s been wandering around offering commentary on my shoe choices like he has any expertise in the matter.

The pre-party shoe struggle is real

“Those look painful,” he says about literally every pair I own that isn’t sneakers. Sweet man, but clearly doesn’t understand that sometimes looking good requires strategic suffering.

The plan is dinner, then dancing, then probably me texting Jake at midnight asking him to come rescue me because my feet are staging a revolt. But Carmen specifically requested “the whole birthday experience” so I’m committed to seeing this through. Plus Sarah’s coming out for once, which feels like spotting a unicorn these days.

Wish me luck. These heels and I are about to negotiate a peace treaty that’ll hopefully last until at least 1 AM.