Oh My Darling, I Feel Wonderful Tonight

Prom Day

T minus 9 hours and counting:

"Big floofy curls," I instruct the hairdresser, waving my hands around my head.
"Ok, but I have to use hairspray. You know how you hate it," she replied.
"Huh? I LOVE hairspray," I reply, startled.

And we all gain a little more understanding of each other and the world is a better place.

T minus 2 hours:

Roger gets so nervous every time we do a self timer photo shoot. (See Christmas photo shoot story). But I decide I'm going to exercise a new Zenlike calmness this time.

I quietly set up the self timer on the new $1200 Nikon camera with the new $175 flash. I quietly notice that I can't figure out how to work the self timer. I quietly curse and quietly put it away.

T minus 1 hour:

I load up the evening bag my aunt carried for her debut in 1935. I apply the Vampira dark red lipstick that I've used for the Christmas photo shoot since 2001. Mom calls. "I need some eye drops, would you run by CVS before you bring the girls over?" Sure. I decide to purchase some new lipstick for the first time since 2001. The sky is the LIMIT for prom night!

T minus 15 minutes:

I hand the Sony ($300) camera to a five year old and ask her to take a picture. Meredith snaps the above shot. She then drops the camera on the tile floor. I make this sound:

aaaahhhhhhheeeerrrrgghhhheeeeeeeeeeee!

But the camera is all right, because Magic Is In The Air.

T minus 3 minutes: Mom's house:

We go into the living room for another photo shoot. "Take a picture of me with my hand on the dresser-- I just posted a picture taken there in 1978 on my blog," I say sweetly. "Can't," says my photographer husband. "I'm getting bounceback (light reflection) from the picture behind you."

"DADDEH NEVER COMPLAINED ABOUT THAT IN 1978," I reply sweetly.

"At least we won't have to pay for the *#$#$ prom pictures after all these shots," says my husband wearily. I shoot him a Look Of Incredulity.

LIFTOFF!

"Are we at the Oscars?" we ask each other. For the dresses worn by the girls at this, the wealthiest high school in the state, would transfer to the red carpet with nary a hitch.

I'm so excited. I love dance parties.

We enter and go into a big, dark room. The DJ is spinning rap music at eardrum blasting levels. I remember Mom asking me which orchestra would be playing at the dance.

When do they play "Stairway To Heaven?" I muse aloud.

Finally, the first song that I recognize comes on.

It's Hollaback Girl.

"Let's dance!" I scream gaily.

"I ain't dancin' to no 'Ain't No Hollaback Girl'", Roger cleverly quips.

Now here is the weird thing. The kids are just sort of hanging out in the middle of the dance floor. They aren't dancing. They are just standing around. Hundreds of kids. Just standing around. I snap a quick picture.

Don't they like to slow dance?, I wonder. I mean, that was the thing back in the day. Aha! "Wonderful Tonight" comes on. We move out on the floor and look in each other's eyes and I'm lost in the ecstacy. A photographer snaps us. Shots of the dancers appear on a big screen. I wonder, briefly, if anyone will think I'm a high school girl. I then wonder, briefly, if I truly am insane.

Oh my darling, I feel wonderful tonight.

The only other song I recognized came on an hour later. It's "Baby Got Back."

"Let's dance!" I scream gaily, again, hopped up on three Diet Cokes.

"NO," responds my darling. "But don't let me stop you. Just go join the herd."

"Yeah, me and 300 17 year olds on the floor? I don't think so."

I settle for singing along. The music is so loud that nobody can hear me.

So Cosmo says you're fat!
Well I ain't down with that!
To the beanpole dames in the magazines,
You ain't it, Miss Thang!
Gimme a sistah, can't resist her,
Red beans and rice didn't miss her,
BABY GOT BACK!

LA FACE WITH AN OAKLAND BOOTY!!

All right, we've eaten, I've admired the gorgeous dresses, Roger's admired the gorgeous girls, I've drunk three diet cokes, what have I forgotten? Why, it's the Prom Picture! "They're free for us," assures a fellow faculty member.

We get in line. Roger hates waiting in line. Some guy is mumbling "what a waste of time," behind us. Roger and Guy exchange long suffering looks. "chill..." responds his date, with a great Jersey accent. "chill..." I agree, squeezing Roger's hand "lovingly".

I watch a young lady in an Academy Award style gown scribble out a check for $75 for prom pictures and wonder, nervously, how much they'll cost in 2016.

We pose. I hope I remembered to suck in my stomach.

And we go home.

And today we went to a kid's birthday party, and painted the storage shed, and I'm all grown up now, but I will always have that April Fool's Day in 2006 where, just for a few minutes, it was Let's Do The Time Warp Again.