Today I received my twenty year class reunion invitation in the mail. I was mildly surprised, seeing as how, in a fit of pique, I had removed myself from the Facebook group, “Mt. Zion High Class of 1992 20 Year Reunion.” I also defriend about 100 people that night, for now particular reason other than I felt set upon by the demons of my past.
But now! An official invite, and when I opened it and saw all the people listed on the missing alumni list, I felt extra special. But it’s not like I’m that hard to find (I live with my parents) and most of those missing alumni turned out to members of the group from which I had removed myself.
Never mind the $70 attendance fee. My first thought was to the extra 20 lbs I have packed on since the last time a group of my classmates saw me. Then, I was told I looked fabulous. I wonder if I can lose 20 lbs in 2 months? (No, I don’t have that kind of discipline)
I felt in good company when a couple of my classmates worried over who would want to talk to them if they should attend. “I will,” I volunteered, with visions of me commanding over my select group of quirky but chummy folk, having more fun than anyone else at the reunion. Forget about me clinging to Heather Regan’s side at the five-year reunion. In addition to this $70 attendance fee that my unemployed ass doesn’t have, I will have plenty o’ booze money so fun, quotable party-animal Charlotte will be in attendance.
Crap. That means I will need to get a hotel room. That’s an extra $60. What if I actually plan go and it’s a complete flop? I’ll be depressed for days. Plus, even though I recently coloured my hair, there’s so much other maintenance to attend to and I’ll need new clothes. . . .
And as for my vision of hooking up with someone at the reunion, I don’t know who the hell that would be. All of my former crushes are married/taken/egad now. And I’ll have to lie about what I have been doing with myself, only that won’t fly, because I have been brutally honest on Facebook. I wonder if I could find a job in two months?
I told my friend Amanda about the invite. “Are you going?” “It depends on how many people ask me if I’m going?” After all, a girl’s gotta feel wanted to leave the house. And spend $100+ of imaginary money she doesn’t have.
I’ll probably do what I always do. On the night of the reunion, try not to think about it as I get drunk by myself, and if someone happens to call me (could happen, it did during the 10 year), then I’ll be as chipper as a lark.