Sweating to the Oldies
It seems I mentioned in an earlier post that my class reunion was coming up. I can't remember. It was my, gasp, 20th.
The people that were planning it sent out very last minute invitations, like a month before the event. Or maybe only the people like me received last minute invitations. (Her, I don't remember her. Oh yeah, it was the freaky goth tall chick.)
The reunion was held on the 28th of December. I chewed on going but that was only to see my friend Diane, who sounded positive she was going. Only it was one-hundred twenty dollars, three days after Christmas, a four hour drive away, and we didn't have a car at the time that fit the whole family.
I told her via e-mail that I wasn't able to go. She hadn't signed up either. I would have killed her if I'd signed for it and she wasn't going.
The people hosting the reunion set up a myspace site. I went online this weekend to see if I recognized any of the people who had gone to the reunion. Nope, I didn't. Not only that, but they all looked really old and fat. How did that happen to them when I still look the same?
One thing I had wondered about was, if I had gone to the reunion would it propel me mentally back to high school? That question was answered when I was looking at the pictures. The lady (I use that term loosely) who was voted most eligible bachelorette was one of the people who had been a snotty mean girl in high school. I found myself asking my husband, "Do you think she still screws for coke?" Twenty years later and some things never change.
The people that were planning it sent out very last minute invitations, like a month before the event. Or maybe only the people like me received last minute invitations. (Her, I don't remember her. Oh yeah, it was the freaky goth tall chick.)
The reunion was held on the 28th of December. I chewed on going but that was only to see my friend Diane, who sounded positive she was going. Only it was one-hundred twenty dollars, three days after Christmas, a four hour drive away, and we didn't have a car at the time that fit the whole family.
I told her via e-mail that I wasn't able to go. She hadn't signed up either. I would have killed her if I'd signed for it and she wasn't going.
The people hosting the reunion set up a myspace site. I went online this weekend to see if I recognized any of the people who had gone to the reunion. Nope, I didn't. Not only that, but they all looked really old and fat. How did that happen to them when I still look the same?
One thing I had wondered about was, if I had gone to the reunion would it propel me mentally back to high school? That question was answered when I was looking at the pictures. The lady (I use that term loosely) who was voted most eligible bachelorette was one of the people who had been a snotty mean girl in high school. I found myself asking my husband, "Do you think she still screws for coke?" Twenty years later and some things never change.