My senior prom, what dreams are made of?

Lets just say I’m not the kind of person who likes to get all dressed up, so naturally who can picture me at prom. For a while I couldn’t because of the most important part, the dress, I couldn’t find one. Overwhelmed by color after color and whirlwind of short, long, layered, strapless. After about two weeks of looking and three complete melt downs, I found it. It was perfect, the moment I put it one everyone knew it. The dress was a dark purple, like the sky before it goes totally black. It was short and layered, and bubbly like my friends know me to be.

And I thought the shopping was crazy. I never knew how much effort went into prom. The weekend before, my mother and cousin literally typed out a schedule of what had to be done and by what time. IT WAS INSANE.

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Finally the morning of had come. And I had to follow schedule and be up at nine, to get my nails done. As soon as I walked in to the nail salon the smell of nail polish and lotions knocked me to the floor. Those little Korean ladies are serious about scrubbing your feet, mine yelled at me for not lifting my leg at the right time! But she did a great job with painting my toes. They were the same shade as my dress.

The next station was my actual finger nails; they too were going to be the same as my dress. The lady sits me down with a bowl in front of me and just leaves. Not sure what to do I casually play in the extremely warm bowl of water till she comes back. After she did my nails I sat for what seemed an eternity waiting for everything to dry. But of course I touched my nail to soon and ruined, so the owner made me sit back down and he repainted my nail.

After we left the nail salon my cousin dropped me off at home and threatened me to make sure I didn’t ruin the nails again. She told me I had two hours to get ready because she was coming back over to do my hair and make up. Procrastination is a very bad habit. The threats obviously hadn’t worked because I waited until the last second to shower and get ready for her.

While letting her do my hair I learned the hard way that curlers really can burn you. She must have used three bottles of hairspray, its all you could smell from the kitchen to the living room. At this stage of the process my mother had gotten camera happy, and was taking a picture about every twenty seconds. We couldn’t get one curler out or one swipe of eye shadow on with out the flash going off.

Once I was finally ready it was nearly five. Prom started at six, where was my date? Late as always. I’ve been up since nine getting ready and he is just getting dressed. I’m rushing around making sure everything is perfect for when he arrives and he gets there at five forty-five. We rush to take pictures under a big tree to shield us from the down poor.

The actual prom is no better, very poorly organized. Once time for the senior walk, all the wasted seniors had to cram in a little area outside the doors. My number to walk was twelve it took thirty minutes to get to me. All the sweat and booze surrounding me was unbearable. Once I was called all I could thing was “don’t fall on your face Trish” and with my date walking as fast as he could I almost did.

From this whole experience I’ve learned don’t procrastinate, never give your parent a camera, and if your date is a speed walker don’t wear three inch heels.

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