The tradition of the night never changes. White dresses, presentation to the world, a quick photo with the grandparents and a long winded speech by some old duck reminiscing about her debutante ball. Then it's hello after party, underage drinking, the back tray of some guy's ute and a whole heap of regrets the next morning. From an outsiders point of view (with a $20 bottle of wine tucked under my arm), I wondered why the girls bothered. But then I remembered my debut and I'd do it all again in a heart beat.
(weheartit, weddingbells, google)
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