It was my turn for my high school reunion this past Friday. I was a class of 2000 chick. I was in high school at a time when people were expecting the world to end on New Years Eve…the infamous Y2K scare. It was the year that cell phones really went from being a ‘yuppie’ thing, to being a necessity for most everyone. It was the year that W was elected as president, Vermont legalized gay marriage, and the most popular song was ‘Who Let The Dogs Out.’ No, I am not kidding about that.
In high school, I was a personal queen of twin sets which consisted of a tank top and matching sweater. I probably had about thirty of those. My hair was super long and super curly. I was in the choir and did the high school musicals in ninth and tenth grade. I worked at the mall…first at a shoe store and then at Things Remembered. I wore tight, flared jeans and shirts that showed my belly. I was the first of my friends to get a tatoo at the age of 16…a tiny little butterfly on my stomach that now looks like a cross between an injured moth and a jar of spilled ink, thanks to my two pregnancies.
My aspirations at that time were to attend every single formal dance and prom possible, become a hair dresser, marry my first serious boyfriend, paint my car with blue glitter paint, grow some boobs, and stop my parents from finding out that I smoked cigarettes. I had lots of friends, but was still intimidated by the popular, cheerleader crowd. I was just as confused and insecure as every other teenage girl out there, I guess.
Once high school was over, I pretty much lost touch with every single person. I never really thought about my graduating class too much until last about two years ago when my MOTHER convinced me to get on The Facebooks. All of a sudden, there they came, out of the woodwork. People that I didn’t really remember, people that I remembered all too well, people that I loved, people that I hated, they were all there. They were Facebook requesting me, I was Facebook requesting them and before I knew it, I was reconnecting with everyone.
A few months ago, talk of a ten year reunion started. Suddenly, my heart went all a flutter. I wasn’t sure if I wanted to go. The teenaged angst crept up my throat like a bad case of heartburn. The veil of Facebook would not be there to protect us. We would be out there, face to face. Everyone would be able to see that I am not the 105 pound girl I was back then. I was going to run into people whose feelings I had hurt and people who had hurt mine. I was going to see the ‘popular’ girls…and even though I have spent the last ten years developing more friendships that I can even handle sometimes, the thought of it still made me nervous. Admitting that makes me laugh and cringe at the same time.
Someone convinced me to go. This person became a good friend of mine after I spent a year trying to make his life miserable because he got a choir solo that I wanted. Admitting that ALSO makes me laugh and cringe at the same time. We will call this guy Blondie. He owns a very hip salon called Studio Raw in the North Hills and he is pretty much the shit. He cuts Drummers hair (and cuts it very well, may I add) and he told Drummer that he wanted to get together with me before the reunion and get drunk. SOLD. What the hell, what’s the worst that could happen. My old classmates are just people, for Christ sake.
So we planned it out. Blondie and his twin brother, a couple other high school girlfriends, and our spouses/boyfriends/dates all met up at my house for drinks and a giant tray of strawberry Jell-O shots. We decided it was best to arrive fashionably late.
The Jell-O shots had taken the edge off completely and by the time we got there, I no longer cared who I was going to run in to. I had spent enough of high school trying to impress people, worrying about what everyone thought of me. For what? If only I could tell high school me not to worry, that none of it matters in the end. My life turned out better then I ever expected it to, and the person that I was in high school really had nothing to do with the person that I am now. I went to my reunion with my head held high because I truly am proud of who I am and all that I have accomplished. Plus, I finally grew some boobs.
Cheers to ten years, my class of 2000 friends!
PS…If reading all this reunion stuff is making you feel old and frumpy, Blondie says to go to his website and submit a pic TODAY…he is giving away an entire head to toe makeover.