Carrie On Bopping.

Square

If there was a prize for the worst pun in a blog post title, I think I’d win it. This Saturday, it was Unskinny Bop Prom, and what a joyous occasion it was. Unlike a lot of people I spoke to on the night, I did have a prom. When I left sixth form at 17, I had a prom. I’d lost a lot of weight that year, I waxed all the hair off my body, I got a fake tan, I made up an elaborate lie that would permit my then-girlfriend to come as my date without arousing her parents’ suspicions. All in all, me and my life were quite different then to who I am five years later, when I got to do prom all over again.

One of the best things about Unskinny Bop is the complete lack of dress code, even at a themed event like this. It meant I got to wear what I wanted and not worry about judgement for electing not to wear a prom dress. I decided to wear my beloved bodysuit tucked into a flippy skirt, because I bloody love this bodysuit, and thought that a deliciously non-normative space was the best possible place for me to wear something that so unashamedly celebrates my own body confidence.

It was termed ‘exotic’ and I was told that someone was ‘obsessed with my boobs’. Win!

 

Bodysuit : American Apparel (XL)
Skirt : Cos (UK 18)
Shoes : New Look

Aside from the slightly unmanageable heat and humidity (Bethnal Green Working Men’s Club is basically the tropics), a grand old time was had by all. I know a night’s a good ‘un when I’m exuberantly dancing to Heat Wave by Martha & the Vandellas with a handsome man. I’m listening to it as I type and I’m quite literally bopping in my seat.

Here I am at the prom, just before I got crowned PROM QUEEN. The red mark on my arm is from where I started nervously scratching myself when a FUCKTON OF BALLOONS were dropped from the ceiling during the last song the band played. Balloons being quite possibly the only thing on God’s green earth that make me freak out and get irrationally upset (and here you have a peek into the psyche of Bethany).

 

And, just like in Brian de Palma’s mind-blowing classic (which I ‘bloody’ love for featuring public menstruation and pig’s blood), the prom queen was the victim of a cruel prank. Except at Unskinny Bop they’re too nice to throw pig’s blood on me, and it was a bucket of red glitter that stuck to my damn fine sweaty self and my equally warm date.

Please excuse the red-eye.

 

What larks! But seriously, it was great. I had the best time, especially getting to see a pretty extensive fat blogger crew looking stunning and sassy and confident and having fun. Millions of thanks to Rudy and Tamsin for keeping such a brilliant event going for such a long time, with such popularity and success, and giving me a prom where I could be me, and where I could be prom queen.

 

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