A Five Year High School Reunion: Thoughts

As I'm driving
Crap. What am I possibly going to say I've been up to for five years?
Why do I feel like I suddenly have to qualify all my actions?
Why did I put on makeup today?
I need a shrink.
Focus.
I don't have anything to show.
Except a sixty pound weight gain.
Maybe I'll win "Most Changed."
In a bad way.
Oh, yeah, I have Finley now.
I love her.
As a defense mechanism, I will wear the same thing I wore to high school every day my senior year--a plaid shirt, dark denim jeans, and a sneer.
Minus the sneer.
I hope.
Maybe I should go with my sophomore year fashion sense, which was to only wear black or moss green.
And shamrocks.
I was so weird.
I'm glad I'm just wearing the plaid shirt and jeans I already had on today.
I won't braid my hair, though.
Wow, that's pathetic. I've come full circle to the same hair, clothing choices, and interests that I had in high school.
Except for theatre.
Wow, I'm so glad I didn't pursue theatre.
I mean, it's great, but all you hardcore theatre geeks can have it: Annie, My Fair Lady, horrible budget community versions of Macbeth, SUU--it's yours.
As I walk into the gym
Okay, walking in now.
People are kind of dressed up. No, those girls are just wearing matching hooker boots.
Heavy on the hooker.
Sheesh, hers lace up! I don't think we had those in 2005.
Why did I eat that spinach ricotta ravioli earlier? Why?
Everyone here is skinnier than me.
Whoa, except for him. He's gained a ton of weight.
And him.
Wow, all the men here are now fat.
And a few are balding.
I love that he wore a suit. He always just wore Wranglers, but he looks sharp.
His wife is darling.
I love that he was so nerdy in high school but now is charming.
I totally should have dumped Ricky.
But man, I'm glad I didn't ever go out with the lead singer of this band.
I'm going to offer someone money to unplug his amp so we can go back to our inane conversations about childbirth.
What did we ever talk about before babies?
Oh, yeah, theatre.
Ugh.
As I sit
Okay, I found a table. It's the cool table. I know, because all the girls have long dark hair, like intellectuals, and the men have fluffy hair like llamas.
Technically, if this is a replay of high school, I should be eating down in some hallway outside of the auditorium. That way I don't have to mingle with "normies."
Oh, and I should be brooding, scribbling ridiculous things in a notebook that only I think are deep, and refusing to wear makeup.
Maybe this is like high school, because I'm thinking, "She's skinny. I hate her." "She's even skinnier. I hate her more." "She's pretty. I kind of hate her." "Okay, she's skinny and pretty, let's tie her down and feed her burgers. Then ritually sacrifice her."
As I talk
Ha. The person I'm talking to the most didn't even go to my high school.
Why don't I bring pictures of Finley with me everywhere? I don't even have a picture of her on my phone.
I'm the worst!
Wait, we're doing this again in five years? Forget it, I don't think I'll come.
Unless I lose weight. Then I'm totally going.
If I were to give myself an award tonight, it would be "Biggest Reality Check."
As I mingle
Ha, thanks, no, I'm not going to sing.
Oh, thank you, no, I'm not singing tonight.
No, I'm not singing.
Okay, seriously, make him stop singing or I'll go usurp his stage and sing Tori Amos.
Then you'll all be sorry.
Yes, I have a kid.
Yes, she's almost one.
I know I have no excuse for being chubby. It's not baby weight.
I'm single and sad, and most days my only excitement is food.
But remember me in high school? I was way cuter than I thought I was.
Isn't that the theme of tonight?
As I look around
Hmmm. Eye contact with you and... nothing.
Yeah, I totally just shallowly waved to you and looked away.
What did you expect, you could make me the ugly cheerleader in the back row in junior high, ignore me in high school, and be friendly at our reunion?
Sheesh, my boobs are still awkward. They're huge. They're like two puppies going for the chow.
Okay, I'm leaving. This band blows.
Cue feisty walk out.
(Real reason I'm leaving: I don't want to pee my pants at my five year reunion.)
As I get in the car
Okay, bye everyone. See you. Have a nice life.
Thank you for the memories, the laughs, and that time you guys voted me prom queen.
Sorry I didn't get to know you better, sorry I clung to the wall like a snot, sorry I was so obsessed with one person who wasn't so great--you guys were right.
As I drive away
Wha???
I totally grew a stress zit while I was in there! I didn't have that when I walked through the door!
Damn, it's pulsating!
As I get my chai latte at Kneaders
Cashier: "Your name?"
We both look down at my nametag, still on my shirt.
Me: "Um, Lindsay."
Aaaaaaaaaand... scene.