Pocahontas

Do you remember when you were a little girl and you used to hide in your mother's closet, trying on all her clothes, playing with her lipstick and draping yourself in enough jewelry to sink the Titanic? (Forget I just said that if you're a boy ... unless you're a fan of that sort of thing)
Well I do, and truthfully, I thought I'd never be able to play dress-ups without enduring public ridicule until I recently received an invite to a friend's eighteenth birthday - the ultimate free pass!
The theme is Disney - to dress as any character that takes your fancy, and honestly, I thought (and still think) this is the most exciting concept on the planet. Not only does the thirty year old (me) get to hang out with the young-ins on a pub crawl, but I also get to trawl through Google images in search of the perfect Disney ensemble and spend hubby's money buying it.
Kidding.
Anyway, I decided on Pocahontas on account of my long, dark hair and the fact that I'd rather wear a loin cloth in the decidedly feral summer heat  than pour myself into a ball gown and call myself a princess.
With the decision made, I was aghast when a new piece of information was sent via text, crumbling my Disney fantasy. Not only was I supposed to be a seemingly innocent tribal daughter, hugging trees and whispering to the wind and all that crap but apparently now I was supposed to be slutty one at that! I mean, how on earth do you make Pocahontas look easy? Show John Smith my furs?
Yes, the looming question mark of whether or not I will actually debase Walt Disney's beloved character is still a mystery. I suspect after a few hours of cocktails and three bucketfuls of sweat staining the armpits of my new outfit that Pocahontas may just take a few clothes off merely to avoid expiration.
Watch this space ...

Kristy :)