Prom-A-Palooza!!!

Hell yeah!   It’s Prom-A-Palooza y’all!

Now, before we start this, I’m going to issue a disclaimer:

“TSM is not in any way responsible for any uncontrollable desires you may have to listen to Journey, Lionel Richie, Def Leppard (my personal fave) or even Air Supply upon your reading of this post.   You waive all claims against TSM should you find your self doing any type of step together, step together, white man’s overbite dancing.  TSM cannot be held accountable for any food or coffee spit on your screen upon the viewing of these pictures.    In fact, I refuse to be held liable for anything…and I don’t want to speak of this tackiness ever again, mkay?”

You agree?   Okay, let’s carry on, shall we?

Welcome to the height of fashion in 1983….Prom Night!

Before we go there, you should know the back story.    I had a date.   Not the date you are about to see below, but a different boy who asked me months in advance of the prom.   The pink fluffy dress had been purchased, the countdown had begun.   And then, a few weeks before prom, he dumped me.   By dumped me, I mean he avoided me like the plague (remember this…it’s foreshadowing for another event down the road) and when I finally asked him what was wrong, he said this:

“I can’t go to prom with you.   I forgot I already asked someone else.”

Oh, yes. He did.    I thought that kind of thing only happened in John Hughes movies but I was wrong.    After endless teenage screaming and hysterics, one of my buddies conviced the guy who ended up taking me, Ben, to ask me so I wouldn’t be scarred for the rest of my life.     Also, you should know I was totally lying in my previous post…there was no drinking, there was no groping, this guy was beyond wholesome.   No really, I’m being serious.

So without further adieu, welcome to Prom Night!

A Day That Will Live In Infamy…

That’s me, in all my glory.  I have no idea what is going on with the face I’m pulling.   Either the sun was in my eyes or I was constipated…couldn’t tell ya.

That’s Ben.  Cute, huh?   That was my parents house, forver frozen in time in 1972 or so.  Check out the elegant bronze elephant in the background, we were all fancy and stuff. What you can’t see is my mother in the background crying and praying on her rosary that her baby girl would not come home “a woman”.   No worries, I made it home in tact, much to my chagrin, around 2:00 am.

Ah…the formal pic.  You had to pose a certain way so everyone could see your beautiful corsage.  In my case…PINK CARNATIONS.  Again, I’m all classy and stuff.   Check out the buoyancy on that ruffle though…there was some industrial strength glue involved in the holding up of that business.

This was my friend Susan.   I was so jealous of her because she got to wear spaghetti straps.   My Mom wouldn’t let me have bare shoulders because it might have led to impure thoughts…my shoulders were JUST THAT SEXY.   What Mom failed to realize is that years later, the pink abomination I was wearing might lead to hysterical blindness.

You know what two things you can’t get enough of?   Pink and ruffles…that’s what.

Also, you know what is funny?  Putting  lei around your neck and yelling, “Look, I just got laid!” when in fact, you had not…

Shamefully, I just have no idea what this girl’s name is.  However, I found this picture and just could not resist for two reasons.  First, check out those bad ass ruffles on the guy.  Secondly, the look on his face.  He’s all…”Ooooo girl, you lookin’ FINE!!!”   Which yes, she did look fine, certainly finer than me.  I’m fairly certain I hated her on some level for her cuteness even though I specifically remember her being incredibly sweet and nice as well.   *Sigh*

(Update:  A couple of you were kind enough to thump me upside the head and remind me her name was Bronwyn, which the minute I heard that, I was all, “Of course she is Bronwyn!!”  I think I was just blinded by her total cuteness…sort of a deer in the headlights effect….thanks for straightening me out friends of 1983!)

So there you have it, a brief pictoral history of how one girl in 1983 so totally loved Pepto Bismol, she tried to masquerade as a bottle of it at the most important night of her young life.

Now…back to the foreshadowing above.   While Ben and I were not an item before the prom, we kissed and I fell head over heels in love.   (Man, I did that a lot as a teenager….)    We dated for several months after and I thought this was the stuff of “Happily Ever After”.   How lucky was I to find my one true love at the tender age of 17?   We would tell our children stories of prom night and how we kissed under the glow of a disco ball while slow dancing to “Total Eclipse of the Heart”.   We would look at them as teenagers and compare our prom pictures to see who they most looked like at the same age.  It would all be great fun.

Except.

He dumped me.

Or rather, his mother dumped me.   At some point he got sick of me and I just could not take a hint at that age.   I called and called and called…and never got a return call.   Most girls would realize something was wrong.

Not me.

So finally, I called him one last time only to speak to his really lovely mother one more time.   She politely informed me Ben was not home.    I explained to her (you know, because she didn’t know after hearing from me so many times…) that I had left multiple messages only to never receive a return call.    After a heavy sigh (because I’m pretty sure she didn’t want any part of this mess…) she said, “Well dear, if you aren’t hearing back from him, maybe it’s because he doesn’t want to talk to you anymore.”

Holy shit.   The revelation.

So needless to say, that was the last phone call I made.   And I am eternally thankful to that woman for kindly telling me to stop making an ass of myself in such a gentle manner.

That doesn’t mean I can’t share this one last picture.   Enjoy Ben, in full make-up, at the annual Powder Puff football game where the girls played football and the boys either dressed up like cheerleaders or were drill team, like I was.

Yeah, I pretty much ALWAYS get the last word…even if it’s 26 years later.

PS:   Here’s the deal…if you want to play along, leave some pictures on your site.  Leave me and Jen at Blissfully Caffeinated a comment or shoot us an email and let us know you are in.   PLEASE NOTE: If you leave a comment with a link, you will get filtered into spam.    At the end of your comment, just give me a shout out that your are in and I’ll go find it.   I will post your link below this post as fast as I can but it may take a few hours.    I will also not post again until Tuesday to ensure you get maximum viewage on your awesomeness!

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