bipolar mom shares her insights on everyday life

Now that I’ve decided to attend my 25th high school reunion, I’m a mess of emotions.  I’m really excited.  I’m really nervous.  I’m going to throw up.

I mention that I’m nervous to Karen who says, in her “matter of fact” way, “Why go, then, Mom?  If you are so nervous, just don’t go.”  Well, yeah.  So, I explain that I am more excited than nervous, and just like trying out for Willy Wonka in May, I’m going to do something that makes me a little nervous, but that I think I will enjoy if I just do it.  She says she understands.  Maybe she does.  Or maybe she just wants me to shut up about it.  I’m going with the former.

The day passes by quickly and soon it is time to think about what to wear.  Ugh.  I had already told myself years ago that the time of trying to lose weight before these people see me has long gone.  I am a much more confident person now.  If they think I’m fat, too bad.  I don’t care.  And, as all good mothers say, “Then, those people aren’t your friends anyway.”  I’m not going to see those people.  I’m going to see the people that were nice to me back when I didn’t have the confidence or the rockin’ sense of humor I do now.

I told Karen that I didn’t know what to wear.  She, of course, says, “I’ll be glad to help you with that!”  I quickly remind her that she’s got Mom’s wardrobe to deal with, not hers.  There will not be a lot of choices.

So, I headed upstairs and quickly laid out the three possible choices.  Ugh again.  I could hear my mom’s voice in my head telling me I should have decided this earlier and bought a new outfit.  And, she was right.  But, there was no doing that now.  Karen looked at my choices and said, “Well, this one I like, but it is just too much black, I think.”  I tried not to say, “Oh no!  Black looks better on people that are heavy or fat or whatever!”  She pondered over the other choices and I said, “Well, I liked that outfit because I could wear my cute pink shoes with it.”  That got her attention.  She’s Imelda Marcos Jr.  “Okay, go try that on.”  I did and she said, “Oh yes.  That looks really good.  It doesn’t look like too much black at all.”  Now, if the rest of you out there don’t have your own Karen in your life, I will lend her to you.  No one makes me feel better about how I look than my daughter.  She will tell me if she doesn’t like what I’m wearing.  (In fact, she told Tom yesterday, “Really, Dad?  Navy blue shirt and black shorts?  No.”  And we were just out at Innsbrook and wouldn’t be seeing ANYONE!)  Fashion is her thing.  So, when I got ready, I felt really, really good.  I needed that.

I did my hair, and it looked great!  YES!  Decent outfit, good hair, I’m good to go.  I get ready to leave when I realize I don’t have any pictures of the family to show off.  Isn’t that what people do at reunions?  Crud.  I am now running around like a chicken with my head cut off looking for photos.  I’m even shouting aloud, “What kind of mother doesn’t have photos of her kids?”  I finally find one of each kid.  Sure, they are from two years ago, but they still look like my kids.  Now, for a photo of Tom.  Huh.  Every picture I find that isn’t already in a scrapbook is so old he doesn’t even have a beard.  He’s had that for three years now.  This is sad.  Mark yells in at me, “Hey, Mom, do you have your phone?”  I scream, “YOU ARE BRILLIANT!”  Tom is the main picture on my phone.  YES!  (Turns out, Mark just wanted to know if someone had called me.  He wasn’t trying to help with the photo issue.  Oh, well, I still hugged him for it.)

Then, I was out the door.  Nervous.  Nervous.  Nervous.  I kept telling myself that if the place was filled with “Who are you?” people, I could just leave.  No formal dinner or anything.  So, just get back in my car and go.  Good.  I have an escape plan.

I call my friend in Dallas and she talks to me about her demon child and I can now concentrate on something else.  Well, that and driving.   She wishes me good luck and I hang up the phone.  I put on my lipstick, and I walk to the bar. 

The reunion was being held at Harpo’s in Chesterfield which has a patio as well as the inside bar/restaurant.  I can’t tell whether the people standing around on the patio are from PCH or not.  Oh, man.  I am wishing I wasn’t doing this.  I don’t recognize anyone.  But, my legs keep going.  I walk up the stairs and there is one of my Facebook buddies.  I grab her and hug her like she is the only life preserver in the middle of the Atlantic Ocean!  I tell her how glad I am to see her and she introduces me to her husband, and then another classmate that is standing with her.  I now see Problem #1 and it is a biggie.  No one is wearing nametags.  What the?  I said, “Uh, no one is wearing nametags.”  I love stating the obvious.  Both ladies agree that nametags would be nice, and I said, “Heck, I will go over to Schnuck’s and get nametags if I have to!  We NEED nametags!”  I truly think I’m going to hyperventilate.  Instead, I say, “Well, I’m going to go inside and get a drink.”  My friend says, “Oh, yes.  Don’t worry.  We did that first thing too.  We all need a drink before this thing.”  Whew.  I’m not the only one who is nervous.

Tomorrow’s topic:  WHAT WAS IT LIKE ALREADY!?!?!?

Comments on: "Back to the Future-Part 2" (1)

  1. Talayna Marco said:

    I miss my little fashionista!!! There’s not anyone to comment on my shoes and tell me how nice my outfits look! 🙂

    How is she doing in middle school? I sure miss her!

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