There you go, Debbie Simpson. You asked for it, I delivered. My junior prom photo. Larry Schneeman was my date.
I believe he had recently broken up with someone, so he invited me. It was a one-out date.
Larry was a very nice guy. I don’t remember much about the night except he had car trouble and I thought he was trying to bail, but I had my hair done, so I wasn’t going for that out.
As for many things I anticipated in high school, and life, the thought of it and getting ready for it was the fun part. And that had nothing to do with Larry, but with me.
What is a “prom” anyway? You didn’t say you were going to “the” prom. You simply said, “I am going to prom.”
For a girl, the getting dressed up part might have been the best part, unless you were in love with your date and it was all our of “True Romance.”
Prom and HOmecoming dances and soroity formals were never my thing. I went because I like to get dressed up, and hoped that something magical would happen, but it never did.
It was so anticlimatic that I didn’t go to my senior prom. It was in the spring, and my head had been out of high school since I had learned that fall that I was going to Ohio University the following year.
I know we went bowling at Madison Bowl afterwards.
So … that is that, about that.
I have a photo of the back of my hair from another formal. I had the best curls. I loved that hairdo.
My first formal, when I was a freshman, was for the sorority I was in … GBA. We even had a song.
We are the girls of GBA
You’ve heard so much about
K-O hides their faces
Whenever we come out
We are the pride of Norwood High
And we aim to please
We always wear our dressshort
In order to show our knees
As we go walking
through the halls of Norwood High
You can hear them saying
the girls from GBA were number one … Cha, cha, cha.
Or something like that
Why do I remember that and can barely remember the years my kids were born?
Oh, I think part of the reason that I didn’t care for dances was that I was so tall and most of the boys werre short. That got me. Made me self-conscious. And I didn’t feel as though I was pretty enough, not little and cute. So there. That is enough of that trip down memory lane. I spilled part of my guts.
Now, I love being tall. I have loved it for years. It is who I am. I can reach tall cabinets. And leap from building to building in a single bound.
Here is a question … did anyone feel pretty enough in high school?
Oh, that’s right, I said I was done.
Yesterday I had a hoot at the eye doctor. I am going to a new one and there is a woman on staff, who does the eyeball pre-check, who gets me. I had her rolling on the floor. We thought we were going to get kicked out.
She is in her forties and still finding her way to herself. I am a good teacher of that. I thought she was going to have a conniption when after my phone made a noise and my stomach was grawling, I said, “Wowo, I am a symphony. Just wait until I fart.”
That was after a bunch of other fun things I was teaching her.
We walked down the hall to the photo segment of the program, laughing like we were, well, in high school and a teacher lost his toupee. She asked if I could stay all day.
Okay. I am down 25 pounds and have started doing the stretches and moving more. Yeah, heay, don’t get excited. Whether I win of lose the weight battle won’t be known until I am dead. My nemesis … but I keep trying.
Enough of the rain and gloom here. I ould use a Carolina Blue sky and Southern sun. This isn’t even for the birds.
I finished my clove covered orange. I love those. It is sitting next to me. And … I put flamessl candles on the silver abouve my bathtub. They are on a remote control. Just call me Oprah (or not) with my new favorite thing.
And this is the way it is on Hedge Apple this morning.
Peace, heatlh and a good bladder, be with you.