Getting back in touch with some friends and contemplating the idea of going to my upcoming 20-year (gasp!) high school reunion is taking me through a host of memories I'm not so sure I want to dig up. See, for example, this photo from before my high school prom:
I'm the second from the left. I know what you're thinking, "Jill was into older guys, wasn't she?" Okay, so maybe you were actually thinking, "What was she wearing?!" Or maybe you're thinking, "So that explains it. Jill went to school with smudged faces." (I smudged the faces for obvious reasons. If you're pictured and want me to un-smudge you, just let me know. Didn't want to assume smudginess either way).
The guy standing next to me was the limo driver because my date was very late in picking me up. At the time, I remember getting pretty nervous about it. Stood up at prom! How would I survive? Wait, I didn't say that with enough gusto. HOW? WOULD? I? SURVIVE?!
Seems we were drinking something in the photo -- maybe champagne -- which might have helped ease the anxiety. (However, in hindsight, I can't imagine my parents just giving us alcohol to drink. Then again, I have been known to mis-remember things, so maybe they also gave us crack.)
Regardless, the next photo I found was actually of me AND the tardy prom date, who eventually showed up. At some point, unfortunately or fortunately, I seem to have ripped his face from the photo. Hmmm, maybe a bit passive aggressive. Or just aggressive.
And yes, that is a
big gigantic bow on my butt. (Try saying that five times fast.) And as I look at these photos, I think I was thin and ridiculously tan (it was South Florida after all), although I'm sure at the time, I just knew I was overweight and ridiculously pale).
So ya see? I'm just not sure I want to relive it all.