The prom saga continues!

My senior year in high school hadn’t been the horror show that middle school had been. When a group of friends mentioned going to the prom in a large, self-protecting clump, like a tiny flock of nerdy ducks in a sea of over-tanned State Championship cheerleaders, I could understand why they wanted to go. I didn’t want to go, but I understood why they wanted to.

“You should come!” they said.

“I’m all counterculture and stuff,” I said. “I have to go watch a bunch of silent films now while I sew up the holes in the elbows of my vintage black coat that I wear every day on top of guy’s jeans.”

I was really into exposition back then. Oh, and also, being a total pretentious nerdwad.

But they did not give up on me. “We’ve got a limo!” they said. I didn’t listen. “We’re going to dinner as a group!” they said. I paid no mind. “We’re going dress shopping!” they said. I stuck to my guns.

Then one of them, particularly devious, said, “You could make your dress, you know.”

Well, obviously I was going to prom, then.

The pattern I chose?

Anyone who can’t see this disaster coming has never seen a dress before.
Continue reading