"The stress is over" I thought as I stood in front of the mirror smile ready and dress on, prepared to attend prom. A day of rushing around between a hair appointment, a nail appointment, and doing my own makeup and I had survived. But more importantly, twelve years of multiple tests, exams, and heart break, and I had survived. Nothing could face me today that I hadn't had to face before, I thought confidently. After all, I was an adult now. Adults always knew what to do in any given situation.
That statement proved untrue as post pictures I stood in my boyfriends bathroom having a major panic attack. I had just discovered the start of sweat stains under my armpits, on a sleeveless dress. Who knew you could even get sweat stains wearing something sleeveless? "Whatttt do I doooo?" I wailed pathetically to my boyfriend Donald who stood there rather smug in his black suit that would surely conceal any sweat stains. I glared at it enviously, and after getting his share of comic relief at the expense of my crater sized sweat glands, he called in his mom for assistance. She proceeded to blow dry my armpits with a hairdryer, an experience I'm sure I'd have found more humiliating had I not been worrying about embarrassing myself in front of people I had spent so long trying to fit in with. I was sweating the most I'd ever sweat in my life, even more so than during intense athletic events. My parents had blessed me with brown hair, blue eyes, and the ability to perspire like an animal. "Thanks Mom and Dad" I thought.
The stress I thought was over standing naively in front of the mirror at my house was, it turned out, just beginning. By the time we arrived at "The Grand March" (an event where we marched individually down a pathway lined with people from all over the community) my sweat stains had returned larger and more monstrous than before. I marched quickly with hands attached firmly to my sides to disguise the giant pit stains that had formed there. Thankfully most people's eyes landed on the 4 inch high heels I was hobbling along in, I had chosen today of all days to make my high heel wearing debut. Concerned onlookers eyebrows scrunched together shook there heads at my unpractical choice of footwear. I smiled and tried to embrace the beautiful day while forgetting about my humiliating underarms and my inability to walk properly in high heels.
Thankfully, it did get better. After posing for more pictures, the grad class was horded to dinner. I gorged myself on delicious food, and while most people left before dessert I made sure to shove in the fancy puffy things stuffed with whipped cream before leaving. One of the advantages of having a faithful boyfriend was he waited for me to polish of the incredibly delicious mystery dessert before getting up to go. I smiled up at him appreciatively. Things were looking up, and my armpits were drying up.
Full and happy, some of the class of 2014 who were now prepared to start their lives walked over to the old folks home to visit residents who were in the last chapter of theirs. I smiled at the senior citizens and said hello to as many of them as I could. It was for sure a bitter sweet experience seeing them all lined up in their wheel chairs, frail and old, while we paraded through the hallways in our dresses and suits, young and full of life. I wondered if they sat there, some of them unable to walk from a disability or just plain frailty, and reminisced about their prom day so many years ago.
Seeing them all sitting there patiently waiting for us, knowing some were probably wishing they could have this time in their lives back, I resolved to enjoy the rest of prom without worrying so much about how I sweat more like a man then a female. It was prom, I had worked twelve antagonizing years to get to this point. It didn't matter that I perspired like an animal, I had made it. We had all made it.
That statement proved untrue as post pictures I stood in my boyfriends bathroom having a major panic attack. I had just discovered the start of sweat stains under my armpits, on a sleeveless dress. Who knew you could even get sweat stains wearing something sleeveless? "Whatttt do I doooo?" I wailed pathetically to my boyfriend Donald who stood there rather smug in his black suit that would surely conceal any sweat stains. I glared at it enviously, and after getting his share of comic relief at the expense of my crater sized sweat glands, he called in his mom for assistance. She proceeded to blow dry my armpits with a hairdryer, an experience I'm sure I'd have found more humiliating had I not been worrying about embarrassing myself in front of people I had spent so long trying to fit in with. I was sweating the most I'd ever sweat in my life, even more so than during intense athletic events. My parents had blessed me with brown hair, blue eyes, and the ability to perspire like an animal. "Thanks Mom and Dad" I thought.
The stress I thought was over standing naively in front of the mirror at my house was, it turned out, just beginning. By the time we arrived at "The Grand March" (an event where we marched individually down a pathway lined with people from all over the community) my sweat stains had returned larger and more monstrous than before. I marched quickly with hands attached firmly to my sides to disguise the giant pit stains that had formed there. Thankfully most people's eyes landed on the 4 inch high heels I was hobbling along in, I had chosen today of all days to make my high heel wearing debut. Concerned onlookers eyebrows scrunched together shook there heads at my unpractical choice of footwear. I smiled and tried to embrace the beautiful day while forgetting about my humiliating underarms and my inability to walk properly in high heels.
Thankfully, it did get better. After posing for more pictures, the grad class was horded to dinner. I gorged myself on delicious food, and while most people left before dessert I made sure to shove in the fancy puffy things stuffed with whipped cream before leaving. One of the advantages of having a faithful boyfriend was he waited for me to polish of the incredibly delicious mystery dessert before getting up to go. I smiled up at him appreciatively. Things were looking up, and my armpits were drying up.
Full and happy, some of the class of 2014 who were now prepared to start their lives walked over to the old folks home to visit residents who were in the last chapter of theirs. I smiled at the senior citizens and said hello to as many of them as I could. It was for sure a bitter sweet experience seeing them all lined up in their wheel chairs, frail and old, while we paraded through the hallways in our dresses and suits, young and full of life. I wondered if they sat there, some of them unable to walk from a disability or just plain frailty, and reminisced about their prom day so many years ago.
Seeing them all sitting there patiently waiting for us, knowing some were probably wishing they could have this time in their lives back, I resolved to enjoy the rest of prom without worrying so much about how I sweat more like a man then a female. It was prom, I had worked twelve antagonizing years to get to this point. It didn't matter that I perspired like an animal, I had made it. We had all made it.