Where’s my dress?
As I think about how my high school reunion weekend ended, terrifying memories of dress panic flash before me. It feels like the trailer for a B rated movie.
We return from Croton Dam and from our walk along the Hudson, It is time to get ready for dinner. We are sitting with my prom date and a table full of old high school friends. When you only see people once every 5, 10, 20, or many more years, you want to make a good impression.
While I rarely stress over what to wear at home, where I actually see people who are a part of my every day life, here I am in a hotel room in New York freaking out over my clothes. “What do you mean it’s not in the garment bag with your suit?” I am at wits end when I discover that we left my dress for the dinner dance home.
All of a sudden I am not a composed balanced woman of a certain age. No, I am a trepid sixteen year old girl, weighing how I will be judged for not coming to the dance in a stylish dress. They will laugh at me. I will look terrible. Everyone else will be dressed to the nines, looking fabulous and I will walk in like this….” I stand there in a pair of jeans. My clean shirt is the one I bought at the football game the night before with a big O in the middle and Ossining down the sleeve. It is hot pink with maroon and white lettering
“I can’t go to the dinner dance looking like this, I will just stay in my room” Scott starts to take off his suit not wanting to be more dressed than his ridiculous, immature and insecure wife. “No, it’s okay you can keep the suit on.” “I was never stylish anyway. Nobody would expect me to be “ I say this with an “I guess I’ll just go home and eat worms attitude”
Then comes the moment of clarity where I begin to laugh at myself and I realize that I am a grown woman. I am not 16, I am not going to a high school dance It just doesn’t matter. I am my grown up self again. I put on my sporty hot pink shirt and have a blast at the dinner. Thankful for a husband who didn’t make me feel ridiculous even when I was. I was caught in a time warp, and my only embarrassment was that I cared in the first place. How could this have ever mattered?