Turning Back Time: The Class Reunion

My boobs are wrinkly; my ass, what little I have, seems to be slipping by the day; and at this point, I think I have more gray hair than my mother (who has me in age by like 20 years). I think I saw some wrinkles and bags under my eyes this morning, but the jury is still out on that one–the office bathroom lighting was horrid. I jiggle in more areas than I would like and I think the mole on my neck has had babies. Normally, I don’t look at these things obsessively, however, yesterday it was brought to my attention that there is a possible 15 year high school reunion in the works. Great…just one more thing my ego needs to obsess about.

I drove to work this morning thinking about the possible reunion and a sick feeling made itself at home in my gut. Aside from the fact that I am a candidate for hair dye in a box and (possibly) eye cream, I haven’t really done too much since high school. Sure, I have birthed 2 babies, managed to not run the Husband over on days he deserved it, and mastered the art of tuning people out–but that wasn’t my plan.

The plan was to graduate from school with a dual degree (English and Journalism), snag a Masters, spend my 20’s and 30’s in New York as the Editor-In-Chief of a major publication (or start my own), and grow old with a boyfriend while teaching English at a private university.

That plan, much like the others I’ve dreamt up over the past 15 years, did not quite pan out. I failed school–still trying to figure out what happened, got my masters in marriage, spent my 20’s chasing after toddlers, and currently spending my 30’s looking into plastic surgery options (tummy tuck anyone?) while trying to stifle the Ego according to Oprah and Tolle (a contradiction I know).

As of this morning, I have no plans on going to the reunion (if there is one), but by tomorrow that may change. I spend my days thinking ahead and trying so hard no to look back, and honestly, that would feel like flinging myself off a cliff. I don’t want to think about the mistakes I have made or the split second decisions which changed my life course. I don’t want to think about old boyfriends or catty girls. I choose not to think about getting dumped 2 weeks before prom (a story for another day), or being cut from more band numbers than I can count for fear of dancing in public. I choose not to think about the Trig class I failed and was forced to take again Senior year, or the weird out of place feeling I always felt. I choose to be right here–still slightly out of place, but comfortable; still making mistakes, but learning from them easier.

Fifteen years is quite a long time to be removed from a time and place, but it might be nice to see everyone all grown up. I suppose for now I will keep researching plastic surgery options (breast reduction anyone?), running while praying my behind miraculously lifts, and wondering in the beauty aisles of Target until I pass out from exhaustion. In the words of Matthew McConaughey, I’ll just “keep livin’ bro. Just keep livin’”.