Yeah, that snuck up on me. The end of the school year has had me so stressed and the month of May has gone so painfully slowly that I was taken aback last night when I realized my 15-year high-school reunion is 10 days away. Argh. I really need more time if I'm going to lose the 20 pounds I've put on since June 6, 1992. Better get going on that celebrity starvation diet if I'm going to be the skinny minnie I was back in the day.
Oh, who am I kidding? I am eating a pack of peanut M&Ms and drinking a full-sugar Coke as I write. And I was too skinny in high school. I needed a little of this weight (aren't I great at rationalizing?) And people won't really care, will they? People won't be talking about each other's weight, will they? Will they? (Crickets.) Oh, alright, I'll cut down on the carbs next week and maybe drop 5. But that's it! That's all the work I'm doing on myself because I'm just not that shallow. Except that I will be using some brush-on overnight teeth whitener. But that's it! Just the 5 pounds and the tooth bleach. Wait, I also bought some gradual self-tanning lotion. So it will just be those three things. But that's it! I swear!
But if I'm being completely honest, I must confess that if I had more disposable income, I would have, um, enhanced certain female assets a long time ago. And fixed my overbite and had the bonding that hides the Letterman-like space between my two front teeth redone. And get manicures and pedicures. And do something about the spider veins that popped out on my legs during my pregnancy. And maybe have a little peel done to erase the scars from past breakouts.
Okay, so I just made myself sound like Quasimodo. ("She gave me water!") I'm really not so bad. I have a few good features that haven't changed much in 15 years. Most days I have nice hair. My mom, in a typically motherly search for something nice to say, always tells me she likes my eyebrows ("They make you look like Kirstie Alley!") And my husband has always liked my smile (overbite and all.) I'm no Angelina or anything, but I'm not really an Extreme Makeover candidate, either (though in their last season they sent out a call for cancer survivors and librarians, and having hit the jackpot of being both, I filled out an application and got a response back asking for both a head shot and a body shot in a swimsuit or underwear; the latter picture didn't get sent but was the inspiration for me joining a gym.)
I think every female high-school member of the geek squad wants to show up at the reunion as the ugly-duckling-turned-swan whose entrance makes the cheerleaders gasp and earns a drunken proposition from the captain of the football team . It's not going to happen for me, and that's OK. I wasn't the homeliest chick in my class, and wasn't the reigning beauty queen, either. I fell somewhere in the middle. And I still do. I'm that average-looking girl who can clean up well and with the right clothes and makeup and a good hair day, can approach a soccer-mom kind of almost-hot-ness. And since I'm so damn charming, intelligent, and warm (stop laughing!) my looks don't matter so much.
Oh, hell, yes they do. Where are my tweezers? That stray hair on my chin isn't going to pluck itself.
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