So in the further pursuit of complete and total personal humiliation, I am jumping on the "look at my scary prom pictures" bandwagon.
Again, I remind you, I have NO shame. Remember? Do you??
I sing and talk to myself at the grocery store, I wear inappropriate clothing to things like, oh...baptisms, weddings, funerals, work meetings, and just about any other event occurring on a daily basis in this thing called life. I dance while shopping (alone) sometimes.
I drink whiskey and do stupid/funny/gross/illegal things.
I go to prom in the 80's.
Here we go.
This wasn't actually prom, but the winter "snowball" dance where the girls ask the guys. I kind of liked the goth-y guy I was with (on the far right) and had made out with him on occasion, but as you can see from the picture, my friend Scandia (blonde, far left) had ideas of her own that night. Turns out she liked him too. I never really ended up dating this guy, and I'm pretty sure I was still with my BF at the time, but I just didn't tell him about this event as I obviously wanted to go with someone short, surly and socially retarded, turns out.
The dress was $5 on clearance from Maurices. it dipped low in he back & had a big satin bow at the top of my butt. It was knee-length and actually pretty cute. Someone really should have talked to me about my hair though. I think I had some equation for "special" events where my hair height had to be exactly 1/2 the height of my head, or at least high enough to compete with Ms. Waffle's.
This was 1988.
This was prom, but not my prom. My BF, named Crew-Cut, went to the local private Catholic High School. He was a year older than me, so this was his senior prom. I REALLY didn't want to go to this, but I couldn't resist having a reason to put on something that consisted of approximately 45 yards of rouched taffeta. My Mom made this dress for me, as I wanted something Awesome and couldn't find the appropriately Awesome dress in any store. This dress was really hard to get on & off, which made for interesting back-seat-of-the-parent's-Volvo gymnastics later on.
Not only do I appear to be born of Dracula "a.k.a. creature of the night" here, but it seems that my head was being used as a host to grow Lindsay Lohan's future pubic hair.
My parents wanted a pic outdoors, so I trudged out & posed with my sweet vintage heels sinking into the muddy dirt.
Asymmetric dresses rock.
And, I've said this before: Why did we not pluck our eyebrows at all in the 80's? I look like bride of caveman.
I still have this dress, and if I can squeeze into it, I'll post the picture here, I promise (I hope you haven't already forgotten the whole lack of shame thing).
I like to call how I looked for this, my senior prom, as "True tales of a teenage tranny"
Sweet Jeebus, I look like a man. Dressed badly like a woman.
And again with the rouching.
My Mom also made this dress as I once again had a "vision" of what I should wear to look hot, hot, hot.
Not, not, not.
You can't tell, but I also have extremely large earrings on here. They had large black & silver stones with little dangly things. Ick. Soooo 1989.
Waffle looks to have been overtaken by a costume from "The Little Mermaid- ON ICE!"
And still, a year later...no plucking of the furry caterpillars on our foreheads. Yikes.
My date, the sensitive "artist". I didn't even plan on going to prom, then like 2 weeks before the blessed day, my friends all notified me that they decided to go, after all. I mean, how could we miss PROM?
I really, really, REALLY didn't want to go the fucking prom with my BF who happened to be, like, 25 at the time. I can't believe he was so whipped he actually said yes & rented that frighteningly awful tux.
We smuggled vodka into the dance (at Spirit Mt., for those of you familiar) in sanitized, empty pump-type hairspray bottles. We were clever like that.
We did not, however get drunk.
No one got laid this night.
Actually, I think his is the point where I started kind of hating this guy & thinking of how to dump him. I was a real bad breaker-upper at the time, so I waited 6 months to do it at the yearly X-mas bash.
Yeah, I know. A real bitch.
I still have this dress too.
I think this weekend is going to include a little "hey honey, let's play prom!" time.
Or, alternatively, "let's have Whiskeymarie try to get the dresses on whilst tipsy and complain/cry when they don't fit" time!
Either way, fun for all...
P.S. I have a scanner now, so for a while you're going to have to put up with a lot of old pictures.
That's just how I roll, y'all.