"You should always get dressed over your head!", my friend, Carolyn instructed.
We were dress shopping, of all things. How many dress shops had we visited at that point? I'd lost count.
I hadn't thought of the always-over-your-head strategy as I was trying to step into yet another dress. After all, we step into skirts, right? Why not step into a dress that is part skirt??
But with Carolyn's tutelage, I tossed that dress over my head and let gravity do the rest. Then we looked at each other.
Meh. The dresses kinda sucked.
We were high school seniors and had been chosen as Homecoming attendants.
Different schools do different homecomings. Some choose couples from each class, some choose king and queen during the football game, etc. My school chose the royalty a couple weeks ahead of time. I don't know who decides these things, but if nothing else, it helped insure that we would have matching dresses. *eye roll*
So, Kathy the queen, Carolyn, Lisa the other attendant, and I took a dress shopping trip, chaperoned by one of Kathy's older sisters. We lived in a small town which meant there were no decent dresses to be had for about 100 miles. It was a day.
As the day grew long and we all grew weary, we expressed our gratitude to Kathy's sister for taking on the task.
"I can't imagine if Mom would've driven us!", Kathy extolled. "We would be all, 'F**K YOU, MOM!' by the end of the day!"
(Kathy had a mouth on her. I've long since lost touch with her, but have heard from mutual friends that she's found Jesus)
Eventually, we non-queens magically managed to find our homecoming dresses in the all important school color blue. Kathy's was white. Paid for those suckers and high tailed it back to our podunk town so we could have a Homecoming. That dress would never be worn again, not by me anyways.
Oh yeah, we also had a local seamstress make these white flowy game-night outfits.
I remember them being rather pajama like.
Looking back, we resemble sacrificial virgins (hardly) for some cult.
Off to the honor of happily throwing ourselves into a volcano or some such.
In the end, the whole thing went off without a hitch. The football team won the game, it didn't rain on us in during our pajama half-time, and there was no high school drama at the dance.
On second thought, two out of three isn't bad. Is there any such thing as a drama free high school dance?
I will also mention that that was the year of the infamous last place boob float.
|No really, it's a space ship|
But at least our dresses matched, and I put it on over my head.
Linking up this week with Mama Kat for the prompt:
1. Share a 12th grade memory.