Short Stories

Prom

Prom.

The event that everybody dreams about. Well, everyone except me. The thought of prom has always made me shiver. All the pressure. Nice dress, hot date, a perfect night. I personally don't see what all the fuss is about. Sure, you get to dress up and dance and eat food that will probably give you food poisoning the next day, but at what cost? First, the dress. There's this voice in the back of your head that's constantly saying, "Somebody going to be wearing that dress already. Oh, that one doesn't flatter your body type. Seriously? You're going to get laughed at." Then, there's the makeup. Wear too little and you'll look like you don't care enough. Wear to much and you'll like a clown. And lastly, a date. Boys have never been in my area of expertise. Want me to read a Harry Potter book in less than 24 hours? No problem. Want me to write a essay on how the world is going to end up like Panem? Sure. But talk to guys? Not a chance. Last time I tried to talk to a guy, I ended up spitting in his face... TWICE. I'm still surprised I was asked. Absolutely flabbergasted, actually. And by someone whom I don't completely dislike. *sigh* Well, my dears, I must be going now. If your prom is tonight.. Good luck.

I finish my blog post just as my mom comes flying into my room. "Blair?! What are you doing? Why aren't you getting ready?"

"Mom, it's only 1. Owen said he he'll be here at 7."

She becomes even more flustered, "7??? We barely have any time! Go get in the shower!"

~

I take my time in the shower. I wash and condition my hair, wash my body, then shave my underarms and legs. I personally hate shaving my legs, but there's slit in my dress that goes just above my knee, so I have to spend an annoying amount of time on them. Once I'm done with my legs, I rinse off one more time, then hop out. Wrapped tightly in my towel, I walk into my bedroom to see my mom plugging my curling wand in. She looks up and smiles, "Good, you're out. Here put this on." She tosses me some lounge clothes and I quickly put them on in the bathroom.

"Hey honey?"

"Yes?" I ask, returning to my room.

"Where did you put your shoes?" My mother, the middle aged cosmetologist, has always said, "Beauty is something you earn with hard work and the right pair of shoes."

I have two pairs of shoes. My old Converse, and a black pair of combat boots. I wear the Converse for Spring, Summer, and Autumn. Then, I break out the boots for those few chilly months we have here in South Carolina.

"You're way too simple to be my daughter," she'd say. Life is easier the way I live it. Simple. Is that a bad thing? No, I suppose not.

"Um there in the box under my bed," I say finally.

She stands up and strides with her longs legs over to my bed. My older sister, Alli, got Mom's body. Tanned, long legs, long torso. She could be a model, but instead she's in Harvard Law. She's quite the older sister I'll tell you. I, on the other hand, got my Aunt Meg's body. Small, curvy, freckled. I don't tan like Mom and Alli do. I burn. Yep, I crisp up like a French fry.

"Alright. Here's the shoes. Maybe you should put them on and walk around a bit. You know, to break em in."

I want to refuse, but I know she'll just keep insisting. So, like a good little girl, I put the sparkly gold heals on and prance around my room as my mom gets the makeup and hair station ready.

About 15 minutes go by before my mom has me sit down at my mirror.

With a look of determination in her eye, she says, "Alright Blair Humphrey, let's get you ready for prom."

~

5 1/2 hours. That's how long it took for my mom to get my makeup perfect and my messy black hair in a prom ready curly up-do.

"Okay, take a look." I turn at look at myself.

"Woah," is all I manage to say.

My mom smiles, obviously satisfied.

That's me? I never thought I'd say this but, I look nice. No, I look pretty.

"Mom, I- I don't even know what to say."

"Just say thank you. Now, get up! Get your dress on!

I jump up and rush over to my bed. There, lay the most beautiful dress I had ever laid eyes on. I had to fight with a small asian lady to apparently "saw it first". My mom turns around so I can strip down into my underwear. I carefully pick up the pick lace dress and as gracefully as possible, put it on. I walk over to my mirror and am completely stunned. The dressiest thing I've ever worn was the tank top and black skirt I wore to my grandmother's third wedding. Mom walks up behind me and sighs, "Oh Blair. You look absolutely beautiful."

I smile at her in the mirror. Then, the doorbell rings.

I gasp, "He's early!" Suddenly, I'm extremely self conscious. I begin brushing the dress down, trying to get rid of any imaginary wrinkles. I turn and look at my bare back. "Does the back go down too far? And these off-the-shoulder type sleeves, are they cute? I mean, they don't look stupid do they?"

My mother rolls her eyes and scoffs, "Sweetheart, you're prinking. Stop it. You look amazing. Owen will think so too."

"Your date is here!" I hear my little brother yell from downstairs.

I quickly pull my heals back on and grab my purse.

I have to work extra hard not to fall head first down the stairs, but I manage to make it. I'm met by Owen, wearing a black suit, with a light pink bow tie that matches perfectly to the color of my dress. I look up into his lovely sea green eyes and sigh.

"You look- wow. I mean, holy crap."

"Are you sure? I thought maybe the dress was a little too-"

"Prinker!" My mom says. Owen laughs at my mom and I guess I did too. What's wrong with me? I didn't even want to go to this stupid over rated dance. But man does Owen look good. And maybe that food won't be so bad. And who am I kidding? I'm a great dancer. Huh.... Maybe, just maybe, prom won't be so bad...