The Prom Post

 

If your social media timeline is anything like mine, you have been flooded with pics of family members and the children of friends going to the prom. These pics have made me nostalgic and a little sad, as everything does these days. I tell you, I think I have cried more this month than I have my whole life. I'm either in perimenopause or depressed, a conversation for another time. 

Anyway, my senior prom was shrouded in drama. My friends didn't want to go so I had to go with some other classmates, my date pulled out of the deal, my dress had to be tailored, I had drama with Lisha (which would later kickstart our friendship), and my big grown up night out ended in me and my friends falling asleep before midnight in a fancy hotel. What a night! 

I hated high school. I didn't have a lot of friends. However, for some reason, I was super stoked to go to my prom. I think I really wanted to get in a limo and wear a cute dress. But when I got to the prom at the Fox Theater, I just kind of swayed awkwardly and talked to folks. I was too shy to dance. 

Of late, I have thought a lot about what a me today would tell a younger me. Old Me would show up to my prom in the ratty old summer dress I am wearing as a night gown and scream at Young Me to dance. I'd tell her in a little over ten years our mom and grandma would be dead. DANCE! College would leave us in boatloads of debt. DANCE! Depression, loss, anxiety. DANCE! Knowing Young Me, I would have still wallflowered it, but Old Me would take the opportunity to shine. I see myself breakdancing, back flipping, and moonwalking while Young Me sulks in the corner. I always ease out of this fantasy with a smile on my face. It feels good to dance again.