to club or not to club?

Oh the dilemmas I've been facing in this post a-level summer holiday...do I sleep, eat, shop or party? I know what you're thinking, that just sounds disgustingly superficial doesn't it? In fact I've never known four simple options to present such an issue for me before. Do I opt for the short term rush of staying out until the small hours or do I treat my body nicely with a large (and much needed) dose of beauty sleep? Well four times out of five this week I opted for the clubbing. And you know what that means...no carbs for three days so that I can fit into that eenie weenie crop top and those blood restricting jeans. But, you see, as 'LA' as it sounds this drastic measure is by no means an unnecessary endurance but rather a vital prerequisite if you're even going to have a chance of venturing into one of mayfair's finest nightclubs. The standard procedure goes a little like this. So you put yourself on a guestlist to supposedly 'guarantee' entry but I always take that with a pinch of salt. In fact it's not unusual for me to put myself and my friends on numerous guestlists in a somewhat pessimistic anticipation of a rubbish night. Once you're there it's all about playing a role. I am no longer Rae-Rae but I morph into my alter ego Savannah (because it sounds quite Sloaney). Well of course I only actually adopt the persona and not the name itself as that would be a right nightmare with the whole ID situation. Then there's the once over up and down you receive from the (I can put money on it) leggy blond eastern European promoter at the door. It's quite simple, she either likes the look of you or she doesn't. And with that in mind there's only one thing to be said for my anti-carbs regime; if you can't beat 'em join 'em.