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How to Make an Adult Tu-Tu and Be a Team Player

How to Make an Adult Tu-Tu and Be a Team Player

Sometimes you decide to join a group of amazing friends to run a race and then immediately realize that you are about to do something you swore up, down, sideways, backward, and upside down you would never, ever, in your adult existence, ever do. And while it seems fitting that someone who drinks as much whiskey and consumes as many cakes in mugs as I do, that the life-shattering regret would be in the “running a race” part of this scenario, but oh, ho no that’s not the case.

Our team is wearing tu-tus.

How to Make an Adult Tu-Tu and Be a Team Player


I will be a grown woman, not performing in Swan Lake, wearing a tulle tu-tu.

Everyone is damn lucky that I’m such a team player and love all of their guts so much that I’m breaking one of my Pinterest-infected, cardinal rules for this. For them.

So if you and a group of your friends are preparing an interpretive ballet production that tells the story of how the internet initiated your loss of self, here’s how to look really fine doing it. In an adult tu-tu.


  • A crap ton of tulle (I mean it. Just ask the fabric-cutter for a crap ton. They’ll know.)
  • Elastic (Preferably in a length that makes you feel bad about yourself and eat two more cookies to compensate for the esteem-slam. Because it’s not bad enough that you’re making an adult tu-tu. Salt meet wound.)
  • Safety Pin (Der. Safety first.)
  • Your Dignity

    1. Lay out your supplies and take a picture of them at night with 75 lamps on in every direction. You’re bound to get a great shot. This is also Photoblogging 101.


    2. Cut your crap ton of tulle into about 9,489,472, 5” strips. But cut it really fast so you look like a super hero. Keep that bang-up lighting.


    3. Safety pin your elastic in a circle, wrap it around the kid’s play table you’ve flipped upside down, and do some sort of ninja-boy-scout-loop-knot-thingadoohicky with all those strips you sliced up so fast.

    4. Have the wine that made you forget to take a picture for step three try-on the finished product. Make sure it’s red wine so you can feel dangerous about your craft skillz. With a Z. Make sure the picture is blurry.


    5. Promise your spouse a bee-jay to model your tu-tu for your blog post. Hercules clap when your preschooler runs in to photo bomb. Keep insisting you’re “not drunk, you just feel good”. Make sure this one’s blurry, too. Blame the giggling.


    6. Throw your dignity out the window. Don’t think I went and forgot about your dignity. I’m not drunk anymore.

    7. Fall asleep before holding up your end of the bargain in step five. Blame the giggling.

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