My parents recently moved to our city, and in the process they cleaned out their attic. They determined that since I am now a grown-up, it was time I kept up with my own high school keepsakes. Like, whatEVer.
It’s been a hoot going through it all–if you’re all very nice and well-behaved, I might even print some excerpts from my senior-year diary. Because OH MY WORD I don’t know who that girl was, but she wasn’t from this planet.
The best keepsakes have been my big stash of formals and majorette uniforms. I swear, they all still smell faintly of Final Net. I’m not sure why I insisted my mom keep them. I think I honestly expected that my future life would be so sophisticated that I would be in dire need of a great stash of formalwear.
First up is my prom formal from 11th grade. Can we all just pause for a moment of silence at the memory of my waist actually being this size? If I pulled this on today, it wouldn’t get up past my knees:
Next was my 9th-grade majorette uniform. That flesh-colored elastic strap was on my uniform only, not the other girls’, thanks to my, um, lack of "endowment". I wept many tears over that elastic strap:
Next was a dress I wore in the Miss Mayberry High School pageant, in which I was a runner-up not once, not twice, but a whopping three times. Could you just die over the square rhinestone belt buckle?
This was my senior prom dress. Now, let me just tell you that this dress was the creme de la creme of my high school experience. My mom and I shopped and shopped for this most perfect garment in which to end my high school career. From the looks of all the chiffon ruffles, clearly I went out with a bang:
Here, you have to see the back. I clearly remember thinking that it was so beautiful, I might wear it again for my wedding. Can you imagine?
But wait, there’s more!
This was my majorette uniform in 12th grade. Now that I look at it, don’t those gold things kind of look like hands? Kind of creepy:
Last is the set of pompons the majorettes used my junior year. Yes, majorettes with pompons. There was a horrible uproar between the Mayberry High School majorettes and cheerleaders over this issue–horrible, let me tell you. Oh, there were dirty looks and snide comments and nasty notes. The very foundations of the earth trembled.
Really, wasn’t high school such a fine preparation for the serious issues we would face later in life?
Thus concludes my little fashion jaunt down memory lane. Thanks for coming along. I have to go now, because I’m feeling the strangest urge to go tease my bangs.