Prom

Prom is in the air.  The girls at church have been chattering about it for the last month.  I love to hear about their dresses, where they're going for dinner, and how they were asked.  I always end my questioning with, "Do you think he'll kiss you?" I love asking because it makes the girls so deliciously squeamish.  I know they're thinking a kiss would be the perfect ending to such a magical night. Maybe not.

I didn't have good luck in the Prom department.

1.  Jr. Mid-Winter: I got dumped the week before because my curfew was too early, 12:00--no matter what.  Mi madre bought me a Smiths t-shirt instead of a dress. It was a deeply sympathetic gesture since she hated The Smiths.  "Their music is so depressing."  She'd sing in a mockingly made-up, monotone melody, "I'm going to kill my dog."  I loved The Smiths, still do.

2.  Jr. Prom: I L-O-V-E-D my date.  After we were both graduated from high school, he told me he was more interested in boys than girls.  I always tell mi Madre, "He was the safest Prom date in the deep blue sea." In case you were wondering, he didn't try to kiss me, not even close.

3. Sr. Prom: I went stag. Twice. (That's a story for another post.) 

I always enjoyed getting ready for Prom.  I would dedicate an entire day to Prom sprucing. I would go tanning, get my nails done, and take 3 hours to bangify and curl my hair.  I've always loved hair, especially hair accessories.  Luckily a few girls asked me if I could design something special for their Prom hairdos.  

If I'm wearing one of these when mi Amor comes home from work, do you think he'll ask me to dance?  Maybe I'll even get a kiss.