I mentioned in my last post that Gulley and I spent all day shopping on Saturday. What I didn’t mention is that after a long day of trying on clothes, laughing, talking and drinking Mocha Frappuccinos (because we’re sophisticated now, y’all! No more Big Gulps for us), we went to one of our favorite Italian restaurants to drink a little wine and eat some dinner.
But mainly to drink a little wine.
Then, as if a day of shopping with your best friend isn’t enough, God bestowed upon us the most perfect blessing. Sitting at the table next to us in the restaurant was a whole pack of high school kids on their way to the prom.
We clapped our hands and laughed out loud at our incredibly good fortune and said a prayer of gratitude that we hadn’t decided on Mexican food instead.
Gulley kept talking about how young they looked and finally decided that she thought they must be in junior high, not high school. I had to point out the boy on the end and ask how many boys in her 7th grade class had sideburns that looked like that? And she realized that yes, they did indeed look very young, but it’s because we are so very old.
However, one of the girls had braces just like mine, which really bolstered my self esteem.
As various members of the prom group arrived, we sat back and enjoyed the squealing and the hugging and the whispering because after all, we realized they probably hadn’t seen each other in like two hours and omigosh there was so much to catch up on and they all LYLAS and are BFF. We also agreed that there isn’t enough cash money in all of the world to make us go back to high school.
The best part, which makes me wish that I could have done a live audio blog, was when we took our own trip down prom memory lane and discussed our fashion choices and our dates.
Apparently, Gulley’s sophomore year in high school, fate smiled on her and she was able to borrow a peach lame’ number from a friend. She said she knew she had never looked as fine as she did in that peach lame’ dress with the spaghetti straps and huge rosette on the side holding the fabric as it gathered. After all, what says class and elegance and 1986 like peach lame’? Especially if you’ve had your hair styled to look like Lisa Lisa and the Cult Jam.
I told her the story of my prom heartbreak, which happened my sophomore year in high school. I had been dating the same boy, who was a senior, all throughout the school year and had already bought my prom dress. Sadly, he broke up with me two weeks before the prom. And before y’all feel too bad for me, let me clarify that it was because I kissed another boy.
It was a scandal of the epic, dramatic proportions that can only be achieved by teenagers who have watched Pretty in Pink and The Breakfast Club way too many times.
In my defense, this other boy and I had been asked to serve as chaperones for a 7th grade dance, because that’s who you really want watching your 12 year olds dance…a couple of mature and brilliant 15 year olds, and I guess we got carried away while dancing as Madonna sang “Crazy for You”. Due to my strong 15 year old character, I was ready to take the kiss to my grave, but he felt guilty, confessed to his girlfriend and we all ended up breaking up over it.
That Madonna has always been bad news.
Anyway, I was stuck with a beautiful, burgundy colored strapless floor length dress with shoes dyed to match (CLASSY!) and no date. I was so heartbroken that even when my mama offered to take me to dinner at Casa Ole’, I turned it down. Life without my boyfriend and thoughts of not going to prom could NOT be cured, even with the incredible, green avocado salsa at Casa Ole’.
That was back before I realized that most of the world’s problems can, indeed, be solved by eating Mexican food.
Then, a nice senior boy in my Spanish class asked me to be his date to the prom. I accepted and we were having a great time until we actually arrived at the prom. And while waiting in the party pic line, the song “Lady in Red” came on and I saw my ex-boyfriend dancing with his date. I was so sad because I knew it should have been us dancing and I would be the “lady in red”. Except in burgundy.
I hoped maybe the night would end with him realizing how much he missed me and wanted me back. It would be a moment worthy of even the best John Hughes’ movie.
Yeah, that didn’t happen.
My junior year, I was dating a sophomore boy. I asked him to my junior/senior prom and I wore the most fabulous dress. It was black with small white polka dots, sleeveless and had a short skirt that was…wait for it…a bubble skirt.
I wore it with black hose, black high heels and hair that can only be described as needing its own zip code. Looking back, someone should have told me to step away from the teasing comb. Everyone told me I looked just like Jody Watley (remember “I’m looking for a new love baby, a new love, yeah, yeah, yeah) and that was just about the greatest compliment ever. EVER.
Anyway, as we sat and told our stories, Gulley and I were able to see some real prom drama unfold. There were two girls who kept going in and out of the restaurant, and I don’t know what was going on but there were lots of tears and hugging and general unhappiness.
We wondered if we should tell those girls not to worry about it because someday a miserable prom experience will make for some great stories that will cause your best friend to snort wine out of her nose, but decided against it because they’d never believe us. After all, high school is EVERYTHING. Does life even matter after high school?
So, we walked out of the restaurant, gave the girls a smile and headed home.
After I came in the house and put on my pajamas. I turned on the T.V. and as if God hadn’t already sent showers of blessings my way, He gave me one more.
Pretty in Pink was on T.V.
“What about prom, Blaine? WHAT ABOUT PROM?”
So I sat, watched it for the 585th time and thought about its deep meaning and how glad I am that at the end those two crazy kids got back together because you know that if they were able to survive all the prom drama, the rest of their lives will be a cakewalk.
How about y’all? Let me hear some prom stories.