Elegantly wasted

It's 5 in the morning.

There's a screaming in my head, possibly from the copious amount of wine I was made to down last night at the coming up dinner, an annual ritual we put freshers through that involves forcing them to dress up to the nines and party at a swanky hotel. Re-app pressure is not a good excuse to drink, but you do it anyway. You'd do anything to be a part of the team.

But strangely enough the alcohol has woken me up and I just can't go back to sleep. My mind and body are not synchronising and definitely pretty pissed off with each other. One's dead beat but the other is just refusing to give in to fatigue. Bah!

And my mother is probably not going to be very happy to find out that I partied in my newly tailored baju kebaya. Getting a tailored kebaya is like a rite of passage. It means I'm old enough to be trusted with dry-cleaning my own clothes and not spilling wine on the sari cloth my dad bought from India for me to make it. I didn't get any wine on it, and thanks to my mother's ingenious plans to make it a size too small for me, I also couldn't eat as much as I wanted to. My mother has crafty ways of keeping me slim. It's not fair, but it works.

It's about time I tried to get some sleep before daybreak. Damn the pounding in my head!