Thirty years ago tonight I was wearing a lovely purple dress and being escorted across the football field to be crowned Homecoming Queen. I had my Farrah hair sufficiently plastered in place – if a breeze had blown, my Final Net Extra Hold hairspray wings would have given me liftoff.
I can honestly say that the title was never really useful. There’s no box to check on a job application (gender M/F – homecoming queen Y/N?) and I’ve never had the occasion to wear the crown. I am available for ribbon cutting ceremonies if anyone needs an old queen!
I’m a little nervous. It’s been 3 decades since I’ve seen most of the people I went to school with and this evening I’m going to reconnect with them. A lot has changed – besides my weight. I have age spots, spider veins, a turkey neck and I’ll have to wear glasses to actually SEE them – then I’ll have to try to figure out WHO they are. My memory is terrible. I do good just to remember my own children’s names and don’t ask me how old I am unless you want to wait for me to do the math.
Nostalgia is starting to creep in. Friends who have already left this world will be missed. I can feel the lump in my throat swelling. I’m definitely going to need to wear water-proof mascara and stuff a wad of tissues in my purse.
Now to go get ready. I’ve only got 2 hours and it will take me that long just to squeeze into my Spanx.
I’ll let you know how it goes. Hm, what to wear? Crown or no crown?