School Dance

Ah, the 8^th grade dance; a coming of age ritual bidding farewell to our adolescence and hello to the debauchery and minute depravity of high school. Of course, I had no date. At the time I had no idea that this streak of datelessness would last well into senior prom, but I was young and hopeful. I assumed that high school would bring a chance to practice my relationship training wheels. It did not.

I wore a white dress. I am not sure what would bring me to conclude that the white just-above-the-knee (probably leftover from the Easter sale) dress would be perfect for my first in the gym dance. I even remember picking out hose with a slight sparkle to them and white two strap mary janes. Yes, mary janes. Kurt Cobain had committed suicide two years prior and plaid, Dr. Martens and mary janes were still in fashion.

I used a curling iron on my just-below-the-shoulder hair, which I had died at some point and desperately needed to re-color. I am not a hair whiz. This was not a good look for me, but I sprayed a ton of generic hairspray on my curled hair and went off into the wild world of 14 year olds. Honestly, I have no idea what happened at that dance. I don’t know if I did dance. Knowing me, I just hung out on the sidelines chatting,  equally afraid that someone would or would not ask me to dance that afternoon. I assume no one did. I think I would remember, but then again, maybe not.

Let this be a lesson- your first experience with a tragic situation can color your opinion on the dreaded ritual for the rest of your life. I never went to homecoming, I skipped the day we were all supposed to wear mums to school (google it, mums are a Texas thing) and I had to have some random friend of a friend take me to prom. He was a sophomore. No one should ever have to take some sophomore to their senior prom.

I know this all sounds terribly pathetic and tragic, but it wasn’t as damaging as it could have been. I found my way.  I fostered great friendships that I still have today over 18 years later. I had lots of extra curriculars, just no suitors. No first love or butterflies in the stomach while making out in the back of the car. Perhaps I was a bit stunted in the relationship department, maybe that is why I am a little behind the curve now. I didn’t have all those experimental years of “dating” and “falling in love” and “heartbreak”. Oh, well. I rocked those white mary janes, even if I never did get to take them for a spin on the rubbery gym floor.

Go Mustangs!

I couldn't find the 8th grade dance picture- but apparently I wore the dress again to some family function that year. So, I added the picture on the left from a drama competition. Who wouldn't want to take that sassy girl to the dance??