Recently I was very privileged to attend the Pink concert at the Brisbane Entertainment Centre. Tickets cost more than my yearly wine budget and involved staying overnight in Brisbane with a girlfriend. My inner rock chick was hanging for a girls night out, a chance to let my hair down, sing along at the top of my lungs and dance in public, something that little old Gymp-Vegas doesn’t really want to see!

Having never been to a concert of this magnitude, I wasn’t really sure what to expect. I’ve only attended concerts of the pre-school variety in the last 5 years and so I have become accustomed to matinee concerts. Concerts consisting of primary colours with loud, high pitched squeals of overly-excited toddlers screaming ‘Hot Potato Hot Potato’, not to mention all the Mums in the back row screaming for Anthony or Sam Wiggle (pre the Wiggle breakup debacle of 2012).

So the Pink concert was a real eye opener for me. There were no exhausted parents overloaded with cardigans and nappy bags filled with snacks, baby wipes and spare pants. There were no kids, period not little ones anyway. The only people resembling children were those who I assumed were intoxicated and dressed in clothing that would only fit a 5 year old.

In fact the only similarity was the insane line up for the women’s toilets.

I became increasingly aware that maybe, just maybe, I am a little too old for full on, rock chick concerts. Just a few things that confirmed my suspicions were:

It was loud. Man it was loud. It was so loud I wanted to ask someone to turn it down. It was so loud my ears rung for three days afterwards. It was so loud I’m still thinking about how incredibly loud it was.
I found myself looking disdainfully at the young hooligans who were really not behaving any less acceptably than one would expect at a Pink concert
The ratio of women to men was about 5000:1. The ratio of women under 40 to those over was about 10000:1 and I noticed.
I was acutely aware all night of just how far past my normal bedtime it was.
It took me almost a week to get over one night!

But even though the concert did less for my self esteem and age image than a peek in the mirror before morning maintenance has taken place, I really did have a great time. There’s something about leaving the kids and hubby at home, singing songs at the top of your voice and watching a women fly around on a bungy rope that can leave you feeling pretty liberated.

Mind you, the same could be said for saving yourself a packet, sending hubby out with the kids, chucking on your best trackies, popping the cork on a $4 bubbly and cranking up the stereo!