For an explanation of my NaBloPoMo theme, click here.
Honestly, this one falls more under the category of ‘scarred for life’ than embarrassed. But, it still does make my face burn with embarrassment when I think about it. Plus, I am busy, and this is short and easy to write but hopefully interesting enough that you wouldn’t think less of me and my NaBloPoMo commitment. Also, Liz probably remembers this, so she can verify that I’m not making this shit up.
In our high school, we had a plethora of formal dances. There was the freshman social. The sophomore social. The junior semi. The junior prom. Etc. And you know, even though you can look back now and laugh at the cheesy music and the way you wore your hair, it was important at the time.
One of the most important things about these dances was the pictures. Do you remember that? Getting back the pictures, and carefully cutting up your little wallet pictures, and sharing them with your friends? For our sophomore social, none of us had dates (I think… right Liz?) and even if we had, a crucial part of the picture process was the group picture. The one where all of the girls in your little circle of friends poses together, and one girl orders the prints, and then you divvy them up, and write messages to each other on the back about how you are like totally BFFs! 4-ever!
In our little circle, the one who found herself in charge of the group picture distribution was a girl I’m going to call Ursula. I don’t really know how Ursula wormed her way into our circle of friends. I do distinctly remember cutting her out of the circle a few months later. Trust me, our circle was not the height of cool or the one that everyone longed to be a part of, but we were still too good for Ursula.
Anyway, Ursula got the pictures and proceeded to hoard them, because she was trying to be cool. (But she wasn’t! That is the lesson that we are learning here!) And actually, now that I am thinking about it, I do remember that we had one male friend who went with us, and technically he was Ursula’s ‘date’, and that is why she was hoarding the pictures, and why she carried them around in her purse for months afterward – she wanted to pretend that this guy was really into her, even though, well, NO, Rat-face Ursula, he was not into you.
(I can’t believe I am still bitter about this 10 years later. Also, could I get to the point already?)
So Ursula finally gives the pictures to Liz and me, and when she hands them to me she says, “Your arms look really big in this picture. Even my mom said so.” And I was so sad, because the thing was, it was true! I have chubby arms. I always have, even when I’m at my skinniest and most toned, my arms are just kind of chubby. That’s why, to this day, whenever I am in a picture that might show my arms (like at a wedding, or especially when I am wearing something sleeveless) I try to hold my arm away from my body slightly so that it looks less chubby.
All because of stupid mean Ursula.