Fears confirmed

The day after the big day. My school formal that is. My hair is an absolute mess. I wore it curled and up in this huge messy updo which looked amazing, though my head hurt with all the pins sticking into it. It took forever to take down as well. You should have seen the mound of pins that came from my hair! Anyone would think they were growing out of my scalp. Now I just have this huge mass of thick curls which I’m not looking forward to taming.

So anyway, about last night. We had a ‘pre’ at my friend’s house where all the family and friends gathered to admire and take photos. This went for about an hour, and already my feet were starting to ache. As we got in the car to drive to the venue, I nearly broke my ankle on the sidewalk. Ouch! I honestly wondered how we were all going to last the night. I just had to keep telling myself – fashion is pain! As long as I looked okay, the pain could be secondary. For a while at least.

We had another mountain of photos taken at the venue – some with family, some with friends, some with a group, some with just one other person, some with just me, and on and on. There were so many photos taken that I almost thought someone was going to come out of the function room and say, “Oh no, there’s no dinner or anything! You’re just here for the photos. You can all leave now!”.

By the time we were let in though, everyone was ready to sit down and rest their feet a while. So I wasn’t the only one! Dinner was a three course menu of alternate drop. Entree – a baked ricotta slab with pesto, rocket and olives, or, risotto. Main – coq au van with baked potato, or, roast beef with asparagus wrapped in prosciutto. Dessert – a berry cheesecake, or, a chocolate tart. The meal was fairly decent, although almost everyone complained about the chicken.

And then, the dancing. Now, I don’t dance. Ever. Unless I’m with one or two people I know very well or by myself. The conditions have to be just right before I’ll risk my dignity. I know it’s stupid, because dancing isn’t supposed to be about how you look, but how you feel. It’s about the music. But I guess I’m just a very self-conscious person. So I didn’t dance. Not even the macarina. I sort of regret it now. Why can’t I let my hair down every once and a while? Why am I always so afraid of judgement? Can’t I just be normal like everyone else?

Afterwards my friends and I went back to someone’s house for the ‘post’. There was no alcohol, much to the delight of all the parents. Much to the dismay of some of us. It ended up a bit of a disaster. Everyone was so exhausted that we just played pictionary and went to sleep. Well, some of us did. I couldn’t sleep. So I just sat. The whole night. I walked home in the morning at daybreak and ended up sleeping all day.

I have to go to work now though, so I’ll speak soon.

A.

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