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Sunday, May 5, 2013

Prom 2013.

We went to prom again this year.

I didn't spend much mental time on the fact -- throughout most of the winter I've been stockpiling fun new dresses and shoes so I knew I had something to wear, especially knowing that as a grown-up at this event, I didn't have to be all sparkly and shiny like these kids practically half my age. I just have to look put together, because I'm not me there, but rather the Mythical Mrs. M, someone only seen in pictures and referenced in passing.

Knowing this made it far more fun, to play dress up if you will, than the stress-fest of insecurity I usually get worked up into.

And I think I did okay.
Date night #2 at prom , or just call me Effie Trinkett. #ootd #whatiworetoday #stripes #peplum #magenta #prom #rainbowhairdontcare #shoegame #datenight
Sidebar: I've been really into doing outfit of the day posts on Instagram (and all of my connected social media) on the days I actually get dressed because, well, in all sincerity I think I've got some decent style and I don't hate my reflection nearly half as much as I used to, so I guess that translates into humble vanity ahoy. So if you're into that kind of thing, now you know.

The event wasn't in the cafetorium this year, but actually at a venue downtown (trivia fact: where my sister had her wedding reception when Tova was a month or so old) and the staff in charge of the event did a pretty decent job of creating a formal event for teenagers on a shoestring budget.
Prom 2013
I mean, right?

Though I do wish I'd both broken in my shoes ahead of time and remembered that this place has a polished cement floor and that's it, because my knees and lower back what the hell.

But it's funny, being a grown-up at these things, and feeling the eyes of teenage girls follow you as you follow your husband because there you are, in the flesh, and you're probably not quite what they expected. Certainly taller.

I had more girls in pairs and trios come up to us and in the same breath ask if I was Mrs. M and tell me I was so pretty, OMG, even prettier than the photos they've seen, in that way that only teenage girls can, with equal parts of complete idolization and utter hatred so that you're not actually very sure if they mean it. There was a moment when we crossed the (empty) dance floor to the other side of the room and you could hear the hush as we went by, our unhurried steps on display not unlike a wedding march down the exact center of the whole shindig, the sets of curious eyes trailing as Kyle tried to unnerve me by pointing the very obvious situation out and me just smirking while telling him to shut up or I'll actually throw my hips into it and cause a real commotion, since they're all watching.

There were girls who reads this very blog (thanks to a dick move of another teacher, who showed it to them for whatever godforsaken reason) that hung in an orbit around us for the majority of the night, silently beaming at me when I spoke to them much in the way I think I did while meeting the bloggers I look up to at BlogHer last year. There were not-so-hushed whispers of a student who had a marked crush on me that Kyle confirmed hearing rumors about but couldn't verify until we all were in each other's presences, and then yes, yes he thought that was certainly the case.

And there was finally meeting a girl who came to Kyle in need back in the fall, that the amazing Diabetes Online Community helped me to assist when she didn't know where else to go, and the genuine smile I gave her and the hug/selfie request I held back because, well, that could be awkward. Being a teenager is awkward enough, you don't need your teacher's wife hanging all over you for what seems like no apparent reason. Especially when the rumor mill reports that you have a painful crush on that teacher.

Oh man, teenage girls, selling out each other's deepest darkest under the sparkle of twinkle lights to a stranger, never change.

And there was meeting staff I hadn't before and listening to the gossip of the teachers as we ate outside the actual room because the tables had sold out and realizing that it's really not all that different, these two separate worlds, you just hopefully have a wee more perspective and experience and restraint.

And also quality support garments. I never in my life have seen so many different ways of hiking up a strapless dress while in motion, I could have done an anthropological study right there.

It was fun. It was short, because it was our second night out in a row, the night prior being to a banquet honoring Kyle as his school's Teacher of the Year, prompting the principal to shout that fact across the parking lot at us as we approached the dance and creating a small scene of students and staff applauding as we entered, which was not at all awkward while trying to not get my heel caught in a cobblestone crack, nope, not one bit.

I know I'm not a typical teacher's wife ... hell, I'm not sure I'm a normal wife at all, despite living the epitome of the Feminine Mystique every effing day, but in the rare occasions where I get to make an appearance as the real-life Mrs. M and blow some young (and not so young) minds, I'm grateful that Kyle is only proud of me, to be seen with me, despite all of my quirks, purpley-tealy-blue hair and all.
Prom 2013
Until next year, Prom. Until next year.