I Survived Prom
For the second year in a row I feel like I need to buy a T-shirt that says “I Survived Prom!”
I suppose to start this story; I need to begin with last year’s prom. I was about an hour and a half away from home at an outlet mall searching for a prom dress that wouldn’t cause me to have to take out a second mortgage on the house, and a storm hits. Hard. There was nothing at the outlet mall anyway, so we tear out of there drive to one of those discount warehouses where every prom dress is $99. Yay, I’m thinking we hit the jackpot.
But no. The only person who could wear those slinky thin dresses without looking like they were starring in an X-rated movie, were size zero girls or 11-year-olds who hadn’t yet hit puberty. And then the storm found us. Again! It sounded like a hurricane was bashing the metal warehouse un-insulated roof. We high-tailed it out of there drove another half-hour outrunning the storm and troopers that we were ended up at the mall.
I should stop here to say I hate malls. Store after store. Walking, walking, walking. I want everything but can have nothing . . . well, you get my drift. I digress. We are now in the dressing room trying on one gown after another, and the phone rings. It’s our friends from a mile down the road. “Was our house okay?” she asked, her voice high-pitched and trembling.
“Is my HOUSE okay?” My heart lurched. “What do you mean?”
Apparently a tornado had just taken off half her roof.
Now, I’m from California. We don’t get tornadoes. We get cute little wind-whippers. All the way home I’m wondering about what we’re going to find. News images from places like Kansas where are that’s left is rubble run through my mind, torturing me. I start worrying about my dogs. My cat. My other kids!
Finally, we get closer to our neighborhood. Trees are torn up and uprooted. The roads are barely passable. Lots of roofs down, and fences torn up.
But then we pull into our neighborhood, and everything is fine. Not a leave off a tree. How is that possible?
Needless to say, prom dress shopping that day was over.
Eventually we found the perfect prom dress at a bridal shop, and I swore I would never shop anywhere else again.
Fast forward to this year. I waited too long and a week before prom our favorite bridal shop had NOTHING. Here we go again, driving all over the state searching for that one dress that popped!
Finally, we found a Prom dress. No natural disasters this time. Just the normal — alterations, rushing across town to beat the clock and make it to the tailor on time. The search for the perfect shoes.
The perfect pedicure.
The hair. The hair jewelry. HAIR JEWELRY? Who knew? Not me.
Next, a special trip to find the necklace and earrings, and I’m beginning to think I’m going to need to call the loan agent after all, when I go to the florist to buy the flowers. Oh, and let’s not forget the professional make-up job.
It was a whirlwind week. And she looked beautiful. But I had to admit, after hours and hours of shopping, I lost my patience and told her she was being way too picky. Her answer to me— “Just wait until I get married, mom!”