Irrelevant Observations

My ten-year high school reunion took place this past June, and - aside from ingesting far too many Neon Blue "signature" drinks and accosting the microphone - I was able to reconnect and wax nostalgic with all the kids Ive grown up with, some since kindergarten, whom I have not seen in 10ish years. Calvary Chapel was undeniably some of the best years of my life. That being said, the aftermath of said assemblage required the swapping of photos I had, hereto, no recollection of ever taking. NOR, ever looking like or dressing like. Its amazing how hindsight is actually a fabulously fabricated 20/20, in my case anyway. I have the amazing ability of believing in the moment that I am far more fierce than later evidence, and actual photographic proof, will often dispute.

Behold, Exhibit A:


No this is not my wedding photo. (Oh that post is coming, dont you worry.) This is Junior Prom. I was a cherubic 16 years of age, and chose to wear, inexplicably, a white velour gown I bought at Windsor Fashions in the Westminister Mall. (I realize that reference is only funny to Native Orange Countians, bare with me.)
At the time, my attitude concerning my "look" for this event could be described as "phoning it in." I bypassed the heinously complicated up-do's that were all the rage in 1996, wore very little make-up, and borrowed some costume jewelry from my Grandmother - The Queen of the Costume. I was accompanied by the now infamous David "The Oc Dave" Driskell, who had yet to come into his own innate hotness via inner lip tattoos and sloughing off the Albatross of Irritation that was Luke Weaver. (Im not even sorry for that one.)
Dave agreed to take me to prom, although I had a 21 year-old boyfriend/drain on my life, who interestingly enough found the time to date a high schooler, but could not be bothered to show up to any high school events with said girlfriend. He was far too mature for that. (He was, however, not too mature to get viciously schooled by yours truly - the likes of which had him on my doorstep, bearing tears and gifts, begging for my adolescent ass back. But that is neither here nor there.)
At the time, I felt that I had given this event little to no effort. (Now as a rational adult AND make-up artist, I realize that I was in fact rocking a look that has since been a foreign concept to me - what the kids call "natural". Who Knew?)

By the time Senior prom came around, I was dating yet another college-aged mommas' boy who refused to accompany me (and/or had a curfew earlier than mine - I wish I were kidding), and I had a serious point to prove in the get-up department! In stark contrast to the virginal ambiance I portrayed in 11th grade, 12th grade came with a vengeance!


What is happening here? Even I cant answer this question. I look like I went to prom as a chorus dancer in the Vegas review of Mobsters: Christian Slater, Richard Greico, Patrick Dempsey, and other nameless hottie. (Oh Greico...)
Seriously, lets do a run down:
Sparkly Purple Gown - check
Purple eye shadow AND Purple Lipstick??? - check
Unnecessary Shirley Temple Ringlets - check
Corsage worn on bicep, perpetuating my insistence that I was gangsta - Priceless.

Regardless! I loved High School, and would probably still rock that dress if the occasion presented itself, who are we kidding.

Thank You Jill Overby for rifling through years of memories and reminding me that, even at 28, I may still show up dressed like a cast member of Chicago at any given time.

Are you checking this Ho's? Cuz You'd BEST.