Racks and racks of scary prom dresses! Satin and ruffles were everywhere! Dresses so short they looked like shirts! Leopard print, lime green, and see-through fabrics!
My head is spinning with these images I have of my afternoon adventure searching for a “prom-like-dress” for my roommate (who will be quick to tell you that she is not a 21-year-old going to prom, but a 21-year-old going to the Naval Academy’s ball.)
Oh the memories that came flooding back to me from my own high school dance days. I was reminded of my own expensive dresses and high heels, the makeup and nail polish, and the unfortunate hairdo that kept resurfacing year after year, which I like to call the “flying saucer.”
The worst year for the “flying saucer” was in eighth grade. It was my first dance and I wanted a curly bun-like hairdo. Instead of looking elegant though, I looked like an alien had decided to park its means of transportation on my head. That was also the year my best friend and I decided we would make up a dance to “It’s Raining Men” and perform it in front of the whole school.
I can’t remember if the flying saucer made a return my junior prom but I have a feeling it did once again grace me with its presence. The whole junior prom is a bit hazy for two reasons 1) the alien flying the saucer messed with my brain a bit and 2) my boyfriend and I broke up two hours before he was supposed to pick me up for prom.
Oh my, that’s a story for the books. I’m telling you it’s great, fabulous, juvenile and empowering all at the same time!
I’m going to assume some background info is needed for this story. First of all, this boyfriend and I were complete opposites, but when you’re in high school you think you can make anything work. There were so many relationships in those halls of Milford High School that should have only lasted a week but lasted years and years. I suffered from one of those relationships.
It’s obvious now that it should have ended months before. Unfortunately after a “session” on the phone, he decided we should breakup right then.
I was driving home, from getting a flying saucer attached to my head, sobbing. Believe it or not, we still ended up going to prom together though as a broken up couple. (Those pre-prom pictures are hilarious; I’m scowling in all of them and he’s hunched over like he is the most miserable 17-year-old in history.)
We went to dinner at a very expensive restaurant but of course I wasn’t hungry. I still ordered and just stared at my food. I like to think that I was feeling a bit empowered at this point; that ordering an expensive meal but not eating it would get back at him (or at least make him very uncomfortable).
Fine so maybe I wasn’t empowering…maybe I was just a bit juvenile.
At prom we actually danced together; I’m guessing we were so overcome by the Christmas lights and fold out chairs that we fell into the moment. Afterwards we went to ‘after prom’ (a way to ensure parents that their children won’t go home after prom and have sex or get drunk).
It’s at after prom where things got dicey. The ex and I went our separate ways- I went with my girlfriends and he went with his soon-to-be girlfriend. An hour later I see him getting rather comfortable with a friend of mine (five hours after we had broken up). BAM! High school drama reveals itself.
When the parents finally believed it was too late at night for high schoolers to have sex, (aka: when after prom is over), they let us leave the school. As I was walking out, I ran into my friend who was ‘lapping it up’ with my ex. It was then that I did something completely out of character: I pushed her and then called her names! GASP! I swear this has been the only time in my life I have ever done such a thing.
After my confrontation I went to the parking lot where my friends were waiting for me. Before I could get out of there though, I had to get my things out of the ex’s car.
It was at this moment I felt empowered, like I needed to express myself and show how I felt about the lack of respect I was given that night! I marched up to him, said a few words that would make me miss recess and smacked him. I SMACKED HIM! It felt amazing (especially because carloads of people saw me do this AND felt like this guy deserved it).
The rest of my high school years were way less dramatic. I didn’t smack anyone again or suffer from anyone stabbing me in the back.
Oh, and never again did I sport the flying saucer.
