I Was a Big Haired Teen

Today I got the invitation to my high school reunion. It really shouldn't have been much of a surprise, since I am on the damn committee planning it, but it still gave me a moment's pause. You see, up until that moment it was just an abstract thought, an imaginary construct, a cat that may or may not be dead inside a box, but once I replied "yes" and made out my check it became something different altogether. It became a reality. I am actually going to see people I went to high school with again. And that scares me in a way I don't even know how to describe.

Don't get me wrong, I enjoyed high school. No, I am not one of those freak shows who claims high school was the best time of my life, but I am also not one who refuses to admit they ever sat in Algebra, or ate tater tots in a cafeteria. I count people I went to high school with among my closest friends, and still see many of my classmates in passing at school events Ryan attends in official capacity (oh, yeah, Ryan works at the school where I graduated. Incestuous, huh?). When I see them in those settings it's just in passing, a co-incidence, or because we have been friends so long we have something to bind us together other than high school. At the reunion we will have none of that. All of us will have to admit we are VOLUNTARILY coming together for no other reason than we want to see each other, discuss events that happened 17 years ago, and compare lives. There will be an element of judgment that isn't there in the other dealings. See why I am a little uptight about it?

This afternoon, after getting the invitation, I am pretty sure I instantly gained ten pounds. Also, all my clothes got a little shabbier, my job got less important, and the dog got uglier. The only thing that didn't change is how wonderful my husband is, but that's because he is immune to my crazy. I started thinking about how I could do a cleanse, start running, get a new job, get a nose job, and rent a baby before May. I'm just kidding. I've always liked my nose.

I am almost positive that the night will not be as bad my anxiety in the months leading up to it. For instance, I doubt that anyone will actually pour pig's blood over my head when I walk through the door. I bet they won't give me the award for "most disappointing." Also, it is unlikely that an old administrator will show up and announce I never actually graduated, and I have to repeat all four years. Oh, and I really doubt that my first boyfriend will show up with his model wife, perfect children, and tons of money, only to laugh in my face and kick me in the shins. However, despite the impossibility of any of things happening, I will still worry about them, and many more scenarios. I won't be able to stop myself. Ryan may want to get a hotel room.

At least there will be an open bar. If there had been one of those in high school, I might have enjoyed it more...