Post-Op Week 94: Going to the Prom

I won’t lie, I didn’t take a picture this week in my usual outfit.  I am also up this week.  Way up.  I know what I did–grazed, and ate way more than I should have.  I’ll pick up again next week and take care of business.

Next week will be better.  It has to be.  I did decide this week to continue on with more vegetables and fruits since I like the way I feel when I eat them.  So today I had calabacitas (zucchini, corn and garlic cooked in a chicken broth with a little cheese), grapes, a mandarin orange, a green salad with strawberries and almonds, and some hummus on red leaf lettuce.  Tomorrow I’m having almost the same stuff, just adding carrot chips to the mix.

So anyway…

Saturday night, my school had its senior prom.  I’d chaperoned it before, and decided that I would do it again.  The group of seniors that I teach this year  and I are pretty close.  I adore all of them, even the difficult ones, and so I wanted to share this milestone with them.

Not gonna lie, I was stylin’.

Hair: on point.
Dress:  flawless.  Fit and flares are my friend.  Also, the colors?  Season right.
Shoes:  perfectly matching.
Accessories:  complementary.

I’d chaperoned my school’s prom before, but this was the first time I actually felt pretty and that I actually felt comfortable in my own skin.  I think a large part of it was the dress I wore–I have finally achieved a size that allows me to dress as I’ve always wanted to dress.  I felt good, I looked good, and I got to be accompanied by two hot guys:  my work husband and my actual husband, both of whom had actually worn almost the exact same outfit (which made me laugh, because it was not planned).

At one point during the night, I thought back to my senior prom, nearly 25 years ago.  I weighed nearly 100 pounds more than I do now, and had to have my dress custom made as back in 1991, there were not too many formal options for a girl that wore a size 28.  I remember finding a pattern for a bridesmaid’s dress, and having to hire a seamstress to make the dress for me.  I remember going to the fabric store to pick out the fabric (this navy blue sort of color because I thought it would be pretty; it wasn’t), and then going to the PayLess Shoe store to buy Dyeables shoes to match the dress.  These experiences were painful, but not nearly as painful as the event itself.

I’d secured a date–I’d asked a friend (or so I thought) of mine to go with me, and he’d said yes.  Well, at the last minute (a couple of days before), he backed out, leaving me to go alone.  I was not given a reason why.  I’d already spent a goodly amount of my Dad’s money on a dress and shoes (I did not work in high school, as I was the other adult in the household since my folks were divorced and we lived with my Dad, so I helped raise my siblings) and did not want them to go to waste.  So I went with a group of friends, all but one of whom had dates.  Needless to say, it was awkward.  I felt very much like a third, fifth, and seventh wheel.

I’d offered to fix everyone dinner before Prom so as to save everyone money on the evening’s festivities.  So I fixed us all a spaghetti dinner, and we feasted around my kitchen table, and then went our separate ways to get dressed and get ready for the night.  I also remember being bought a corsage but I don’t remember who bought it for me.  All I remember is that it clashed with my dress and that it was ill-fitting because my wrists were so big around.  I think one of my friends did my hair and makeup for me.  I remember driving myself to the Grand Kempinski (now the Hotel Intercontinental in Dallas) and feeling like a misfit the entire evening.  No date, wearing a dress that wasn’t flattering, wearing heels I was unaccustomed to walking in, and had to drive myself.  This was not how my senior prom was supposed to be.  I only went because I felt if I didn’t that I’d be missing something.

There is photographic evidence of that evening somewhere here in my house but I’m pretty sure if I dragged it out, I’d probably get emotionally raw thinking about that evening and everything I felt that night.

I felt completely out of place all night, like I was an impostor.  I’ve never forgotten what that night felt like.

Until this past Saturday, when I felt the polar opposite.

I was wearing a great dress, had fabulous hair, an awesome dinner date, and then got to hang out with some of my friends and my two hot husbands, one of whom I got to go home with.  🙂

I think I more than made up for the miserable Prom night 18-year old me had back in 1991.

Now I wonder if I will spend the rest of my life making up for lost time.  There is a part of me that does want to, but what good would it do me?  And what would I be making up for?  There are so many things that if I gave them enough thought, I’d feel like I’d cheated myself out of because I was so huge before.  I don’t want to think about any of them because then I’d end up playing the “what if” game, and that’s a game I don’t feel like playing now, or ever.

It’s like I said Saturday night as I posed for a photo flanked by my two husbands, “I got it like that.”

And I do.  And you know what?  It’s all good.