High School Reunion: part 2

I debated what I was going to wear to my reunion and even went out and bought a new outfit, but in the end, Hubby said, “why don’t you just wear that hippie dress you like so much.”  It’s cotton, it’s casual, and it’s comfortable, so I agreed.  He kept reminding me that I didn’t need to get dressed up all fancy-like; “you’re going to a bar.  In Manassas.”  Granted, Manassas is not a thriving metropolis like New York City or Los Angeles, and indeed, our reunion was not at The Palm, but still. 

So I wore my hippie dress – a blue strapless maxi dress.  It was a good choice because, as my mother used to say, it covered a multitude of sins.  I tried it WITH spanx and without.  The thing is, my Spanx must have shrunk in the wash because I had a helluva time getting those suckers on.  There was a lot of pulling and stuffing and maneuvering and persweating.  All kindsa sexy.  I’ll pause for that image to sink in . . .

I did my hair and applied makeup.  And by did my hair, I mean washed it and dried it and broke out the curling iron, all on the same day.  I had showered, all by myself, without anyone barging in to ask if I can turn on the tv or reach the cereal or “smell this.”  Finally I was on my way.

We had a great turnout at the reunion, although we were not able to get in touch with everyone with whom we graduated, and many people were simply unable to attend. Everyone seemed so much more laid back. 

SO very laid back.

At one point, someone (who shall remain nameless, but you know who you are) broke the cardinal rule and asked me the dreaded “When are you due?”

Ugh.

My response?  “You bitch!  I’m not pregnant!  I’m fat!  You KNOW better than to ask that question!” 

Rest assured, this exchange was all very good-natured and laid back.

She was SO apologetic and embarrassed, and I kept saying things like

“clearly my Spanx is NOT working!”

and

“I’m drinking beer!  Of course, I AM drinking for two, you know.”

Later, in the restroom, I looked at myself in the mirror and declared, “ I DO look pregnant!  I look four months pregnant!  Why didn’t anybody tell me I look pregnant in this dress!  It’s a beer baby!  It’s not a real baby!” 

See how gracefully and tactfully I handle a little embarrassment? 

Seriously, I am well aware that I need to lose a few 50 pounds and I have been open about my struggles.  But just to clarify:

THIS is me pregnant:

THIS is me fat: 

You see the difference, right?  Please, tell me you see the difference!

Other highlights of my evening:

• I apparently told the dentist ALL about my root canal.

• I told the CPA, whom I have known since elementary school, to be sure to tell his mom that she was “the BEST substitute teacher EVER!  She read us James and the Giant Peach!” So cool.

• I reminded the Wrestling Coach, the CPA, and the Dentist about a time years ago that we ran into each other at a bar in Richmond, which prompted a discussion on all the different places we had peed in the bar.  Just so you know, I only peed in the restroom.  It was the Men’s room, but still.

• I was reassured by my girlfriend that yes, my high school boyfriend is INDEED pining away for me and considers me the one that got away, and that he does this while happily married with a wife and beautiful daughter.  I THINK there may have been some sarcasm infused in this conversation.

• I felt up the Barber.  I couldn’t help myself.  His boobs pecs are bigger than mine.

• I reminded the Nurse all about the time we ran into each other at the Gynecologist's office, when she politely excused herself from my exam.  Um, thanks for that.

• I told the Clemson grad her hair is just as big now as it was then.  So tactful.

• While talking to my girlfriends, with whom I have frequent contact, I told them, “I see you b*tches all the time.  I’m going to mingle.”  It's a wonder I have any friends at all.

• I came this close to asking the woman in the bathroom stall next to me, (thinking it was my girlfriend,) to help me pull up my Spanx.  It was NOT her.  That could have been embarrassing.

• I put my name tag all over the Employees Must Wash Hands sign so that it instead said BoyMommy Must Wash Hands.  Apparently I thought this was HILARIOUS.

• Curious as to how they manage to keep all their patrons straight when a roomful of people is ordering drinks,  I asked the waitress if they used special code names, and was mine “b*tch in the blue dress.”

• I put my business card (free on Vista Print!) in everyone’s cleavage and/or breast pocket at the end of the night in hopes of promoting my blog.   

• I also reminded people to click on my ads on the blog because that’s how I make some money.  I’ve made six bucks so far!  I’m gonna have to open up an off-shore bank account.

• I made a friend re-take a photo because "my arm looks like a thigh!"  Unfortunately, when he re-took it, my response was, "now it looks like a whole leg." 

I guess my arms get fat when I'm four months pregnant with a beer baby.