So guess what? My 40th high school reunion is this summer. FORTY. How the hell did that happen?
You may remember me freaking out about my 35th college reunion last fall, but let me tell you-- that freakout was minor compared to what I'm going through now. For one thing, I was a junior transfer to the school where I received my undergraduate degree, so I didn't really expect to see many people that I knew. And for another, my follow undergraduate alums are such a distinguished group that there was no way that my life as a mom and an occasional part-time office worker was going to measure up. So instead I could take a perverse pleasure in under-selling myself-- little ol' me, just a bottle blond doctor's wife with no career. HA!!!
But high school. I could completely lose my mind over this. It's casual, thank the lord, and not formal, so I can get by with capris or a t-shirt dress (I think). But how nuts should I be?
I thought about dieting, but then I ordered Spanx instead. And I thought about getting a facial and my eyebrows done and my teeth whitened. (I might still do all that.) But I'm pretty sure no matter what I do, I'll still look like a chubby, 57-year-old version of my formerly teenage self, and there's not a single damn thing that can be done about that.
I keep reminding myself that everybody else in my class is also 40 years older than they used to be, but I went to high school in the land of discreet plastic surgery and botox. Doubtless there will be quite a few who are considerably better preserved than I am.
Getting there is going to take a feat of insane air travel logistics, since it falls the weekend between two other reunions of the family type. But since reader Laurel will be there, and our mutual dear friend Kim, and maybe few other people that I truly am looking forward to seeing, I pulled out the credit card and threw caution to the wind.
And since it's not till mid-July, I've got plenty of time to stress.
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