Girls' Weekend - BITCHIN' SISTERS

Girls’ Weekend

19 Jul

Time spent away with girlfriends is precious. Like a precious, drunk diamond. There’s just something about a girls’ weekend that soothes the soul, satisfies an inner yearning and prevents you from finally losing your shit at the next work meeting or the next time that little asshole, Sid the Science Kids talks about how cool his mom is.


Bacherlorette, bitches!

Girls’ weekend, bitches!


It has been argued that women need their girlfriends more than they need a partner. Girlfriends remind us who we are, without judgment. They soothe our tumultuous inner world, fill emotional gaps, and give us an excuse to get collectively hammered under the guise of a bachelorette party, a divorce or fuck it…anything worth celebrating at all.

Weekends away with the bitches are necessary. We laugh, we cry, we dance unabashedly like frogs in a blender. We share tips like how to shave your bikini area like a boss, where to find poison free hot dogs and is Rent the Runway legit?

But let’s be honest. Us girls also do some weird shit while we’re away. Like stand on an icy deck wearing matching leisure suits for a super neat photo op:


"Let's make a pyramid!"

Let’s make a pyramid on the highway!


And pose on yachts with our perfect bodies:


Let's see how long these girls can hold their breathe!

I have an idea. Let’s see how long these girls can hold their breathe under water.


And play spa:


Everybody say, "clear pores!"

Everybody say, “clear pores!”


Last weekend, the Bitchin’ Sisters paid homage to our waning youth and set-off to celebrate a dear friend’s impending nuptials with twenty-five other women. Childless and husbandless. Shits about to get real.


Alert the authorities.

Alert the authorities.


It started off like any other girls’ weekend. Overpacking tiny clothes that I haven’t worn in ten years, crying, racing to Target to buy a burkini, Nair, a fedora, self tanner and a cover-up. A cute look by anyone’s standards. Except that I just ended up looking like Biggie Smalls in negligee.


You're welcome

The burkini. You’re welcome


Once I pulled my shit together, we set out to Provincetown, a peninsula on the tip of Cape Cod. A very gay peninsula with very awesome things to do. Like go to a drag show.


Ever seen a grown man/woman with a moose knuckle the size of Nebraska do a split leap? You can't unring that bell.

Dina Martina. Check it.


Ever seen a grown man/woman with a moose knuckle the size of Nebraska do a split leap and then eat a plate of spaghetti? Trust me. You can’t unring that bell.

We ate awesome food, drank yummy cocktails and went to a place called the Dick Dock. Sorry, mom.


Water water everywhere, nor any drop to drink.

“Water, water everywhere, nor any drop to drink.”


We watched beautiful gay men dance around in their skivvies. We rode in pedi-cabs over the rolling streets of P-Town and screamed like children on a roller coaster. Or maybe that was just me.

Most of all, we laughed. Our asses off. Like my face hurts, I just peed a little, hunched over belly laughs. Cuz that’s what girls do when we’re together.


The best therapy.

The best therapy.


What our husbands think girl’s weekend entails:


"Let's have a pillow fight in our underwear!"

“Psst, let’s have a pillow fight in our underwear!”


What we really do:


Um, okay.

Um, okay.


Here is a brief overview of the bachelorette weekend.

Day 1:

2:00 pm: Woohoo! Arrive at hotel pool. Sit poolside with a bevvie of beauties and consume some (seven) cocktails (coronas). Laugh and chat and soak in the estrogen.

5:00 pm: Go back to hotel room to get ready for dinner. Try on eight outfits.

6:30 pm: Realize that you’ve been having a really deep, exestential conversation with your besties about the pros and cons of laser hair removal and what great mothers you are. Lot’s of hugs. Very little preparation or sense of time. And now, you’re late for dinner. Is this what it’s like to have uninterrupted adult conversations? Who knew?

8:00 pm: Dinner. With adults only. And oysters. And fancy named cocktails with herbs in them.

10:30 PM: Dancing!

11:30 PM: Yawn. I’m old.

Midnight: Shots!

Day 2: Suffer endlessly until about 3:00 pm

This about sums it up.

This about sums it up.


Things you need on a girls’ weekend:

  1. One or two designated coordinators who have their shit together. Our girls’ weekend had two awesome women leading the pack and it made getting from one event to another so easy and fun. You need a cruise director; otherwise it’s like trying to corral a bunch of drunk cats. Me being one of the drunk cats who accidentally ended up on a bus out of town with another fellow drunk cat until one of the coordinator cats reeled us in.
  2. Booze. Pool bars are expensive y’all. Bring a cooler full of the cheap stuff from your local liquor store. Save your cash for when you’re going out. You’ll need it for the 13 dollar shot of Patron that you’ll insist upon as a bonding experience.
  3. Extra pajamas for your friend who insists on sleeping naked. Regardless of where she is resting her head that night. Like I said, us girls do some pretty weird shit.
  4. Sensible shoes. Heels are hot but blisters are not.
  5. Tylenol. For like an army.
  6. Bathing suit that you’re comfortable in. Again, see the burkini above.
  7. A cute, comfy dress for evening attire. One that you can shimmy and shake in.

Aside from those things, come with an open mind. I think one of my favorite things about being away with a diverse group of women is learning about your differences. (No, I’m not day drinking.) It’s amazing what you discover when you spend the weekend with people who are different than you are. It can be very empowering.


Basically us on our girls' weekend.

Basically us on our girls’ weekend.


And remember, it’s not a true girls’ weekend unless you awaken at 2:00 am to your good friend fake dry humping you in a ripped promotional Miller Lite t-shirt. You know who you are.

Happy girls’ weekend planning, bitches. Please take us with you.

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