Reading- High School Reunion
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High School Reunion Story: PART I
You got to be kidding me! How did these people find me…? I
go as far away as possible and they (Mount Sack High School
Alumni) Fu$&=” finds me. But I am getting ahead of myself;
let me tell you what happened last month (by the way, I am
still attending therapy.)
Two months ago, I arrived home from work to find a letter in
my mailbox from my High School. At first I thought it was just
junk mail. The following day, I opened the letter and to my
surprise it was an invitation to my High School Reunion in
Odessa. I laughed…no. I chuckled! I would rather die than go
to my High School Reunion. On hindsight, I should be in a
coffin!
So the weeks passed and I began to toy with the idea of
going. Then one day, I woke up and made up my mind that I
would go. So the grueling planning began. I immediately got
on a diet like I guess all the females attending the reunion had
done. I began to change my beauty routine and purchased
antiwrinkle creams, tightening lotions and even made an
appointment to get a tan! (A friend told me you look slimmer
when you have a Caribbean tan!)
Then I obsessed about my dress and accessories. I went to
hundreds of boutiques until I found a dress that said I was
successful but not a workaholic, single but not desperate,
humble but not submissive; and yes… made me look slender.
I also bought shoes, jewelry and a dazzling purse. My bank
account felt the effects of my sudden and new obsession.
So the day finally arrived. I flew coach class to Odessa from
Rhode Island. I arrived at the hotel and took a nice, relaxing
shower. I kept thinking about the people I would see again,
boyfriends I secretly wanted to impress with my still young,
hot body, foes I made, caddy females that scar me for life,
teachers that flunked me, and teachers I loved. How
exhilarating!
Friday, August 17, 1999, the date of my High School reunion.
The taxi took me to the hall and as I exited the taxi and my
silk dress stuck to my back in the Texas heat, I began to regret
attending. What was I thinking? I hated those people! What
got over me? But I was there and it was too late to turn back.
So… there I was.
High School Reunion: Part II
So there I was at the HalI looking as bewitching as ever with sweaty
palms and dripping armpits. I got my name badge and walked in proud
and sure. Okay. I thought to myself… you can do this. Yes, you can.
Yes, you can. YES, YOU CAN!
And as a scary movie begins to unfold, so did my reunion from hell.
(Yes, you guessed it, and the reason why I am in therapy!) I walked in
and the first person I saw was Megan, my #1 foe from High School.
There she was, all dolled-up with exaggerated make-up and overpriced
shoes. She came up to me and asked me my name. I replied and she
pretended not to remember me. A blow to my ego! I guess she had
forgotten how she humiliated me back in the day. B*&^%! Please
excuse my French!
I excused myself and went to get a drink. Somebody please shoot me
now, I thought to myself. Then, Mr. Hong my science teacher who
flunked me twice came to me and said: “Are you still taking remedial
science Mary?” My name is Sandra you old fool I thought to myself
(notice how I only insult people in my head…my therapist says that I
need to “externalize my emotions.”) I told him that I had a very
successful business and that science was not part of it.
All of a sudden the music changed; a slow melody, a song from the
past, a song by THE BACKSTREET BOYS, the song my cheating High
School sweetheart had dedicated to me a number of times. And yes…
you guessed it. HE, my cheating, good-looking ex tapped my shoulder
and asked me to dance! My sweaty upper lip trembled as I said a weak
“yeah..” I felt good. I felt hot! He told me that I looked awesome.
Another tap on the shoulder and you would never guess who that
was… my best friend from High School. We both jumped with joy,
hugged each other, admired our great taste in clothes and then she
said “I see you have met my husband!” My heart sank (and added two
more years to my therapy.)
In the bathroom I ran into Sony. The hippie girl who is still a hippie and
was smoking a joint in one of the stalls. “Would you like to see
nirvana?” Why not… (add a year to therapy.)
The night continued with worth-mentioning events; some good, some
bad. I spoke briefly to Mrs. Monguion my French teacher and we talked
about her retirement in France and my possible visit to her villa. I sat,
chatted, and cried with Susan a classmate who had recuperated from
breast cancer. I toasted with Frank who had come out of the closet and
was also single and looking and was also tanned! I danced with
corpulent Abdul who confessed he had had a crush on me as he
spilled red cheap punch on my new, sweaty silk dress.
So the night was over and I found myself back in the hotel room with
the AC blasting. I couldn’t wait to get out of there and get back to my
normal life in Rhode Island. But you know what… I am glad I went.
“Life is a spectrum of events that simply color your life.” I stole that line
from my therapist…who I am now …dating…
You got to be kidding me! How did these people find me…? I
go as far away as possible and they (Mount Sack High School
Alumni) Fu$&=” finds me. But I am getting ahead of myself;
let me tell you what happened last month (by the way, I am
still attending therapy.)
Two months ago, I arrived home from work to find a letter in
my mailbox from my High School. At first I thought it was just
junk mail. The following day, I opened the letter and to my
surprise it was an invitation to my High School Reunion in
Odessa. I laughed…no. I chuckled! I would rather die than go
to my High School Reunion. On hindsight, I should be in a
coffin!
So the weeks passed and I began to toy with the idea of
going. Then one day, I woke up and made up my mind that I
would go. So the grueling planning began. I immediately got
on a diet like I guess all the females attending the reunion had
done. I began to change my beauty routine and purchased
antiwrinkle creams, tightening lotions and even made an
appointment to get a tan! (A friend told me you look slimmer
when you have a Caribbean tan!)
Then I obsessed about my dress and accessories. I went to
hundreds of boutiques until I found a dress that said I was
successful but not a workaholic, single but not desperate,
humble but not submissive; and yes… made me look slender.
I also bought shoes, jewelry and a dazzling purse. My bank
account felt the effects of my sudden and new obsession.
So the day finally arrived. I flew coach class to Odessa from
Rhode Island. I arrived at the hotel and took a nice, relaxing
shower. I kept thinking about the people I would see again,
boyfriends I secretly wanted to impress with my still young,
hot body, foes I made, caddy females that scar me for life,
teachers that flunked me, and teachers I loved. How
exhilarating!
Friday, August 17, 1999, the date of my High School reunion.
The taxi took me to the hall and as I exited the taxi and my
silk dress stuck to my back in the Texas heat, I began to regret
attending. What was I thinking? I hated those people! What
got over me? But I was there and it was too late to turn back.
So… there I was.
High School Reunion: Part II
So there I was at the HalI looking as bewitching as ever with sweaty
palms and dripping armpits. I got my name badge and walked in proud
and sure. Okay. I thought to myself… you can do this. Yes, you can.
Yes, you can. YES, YOU CAN!
And as a scary movie begins to unfold, so did my reunion from hell.
(Yes, you guessed it, and the reason why I am in therapy!) I walked in
and the first person I saw was Megan, my #1 foe from High School.
There she was, all dolled-up with exaggerated make-up and overpriced
shoes. She came up to me and asked me my name. I replied and she
pretended not to remember me. A blow to my ego! I guess she had
forgotten how she humiliated me back in the day. B*&^%! Please
excuse my French!
I excused myself and went to get a drink. Somebody please shoot me
now, I thought to myself. Then, Mr. Hong my science teacher who
flunked me twice came to me and said: “Are you still taking remedial
science Mary?” My name is Sandra you old fool I thought to myself
(notice how I only insult people in my head…my therapist says that I
need to “externalize my emotions.”) I told him that I had a very
successful business and that science was not part of it.
All of a sudden the music changed; a slow melody, a song from the
past, a song by THE BACKSTREET BOYS, the song my cheating High
School sweetheart had dedicated to me a number of times. And yes…
you guessed it. HE, my cheating, good-looking ex tapped my shoulder
and asked me to dance! My sweaty upper lip trembled as I said a weak
“yeah..” I felt good. I felt hot! He told me that I looked awesome.
Another tap on the shoulder and you would never guess who that
was… my best friend from High School. We both jumped with joy,
hugged each other, admired our great taste in clothes and then she
said “I see you have met my husband!” My heart sank (and added two
more years to my therapy.)
In the bathroom I ran into Sony. The hippie girl who is still a hippie and
was smoking a joint in one of the stalls. “Would you like to see
nirvana?” Why not… (add a year to therapy.)
The night continued with worth-mentioning events; some good, some
bad. I spoke briefly to Mrs. Monguion my French teacher and we talked
about her retirement in France and my possible visit to her villa. I sat,
chatted, and cried with Susan a classmate who had recuperated from
breast cancer. I toasted with Frank who had come out of the closet and
was also single and looking and was also tanned! I danced with
corpulent Abdul who confessed he had had a crush on me as he
spilled red cheap punch on my new, sweaty silk dress.
So the night was over and I found myself back in the hotel room with
the AC blasting. I couldn’t wait to get out of there and get back to my
normal life in Rhode Island. But you know what… I am glad I went.
“Life is a spectrum of events that simply color your life.” I stole that line
from my therapist…who I am now …dating…
