There is something that I have refused to talk about for over a year now, and I think it's time I finally open up about it. I keep this memory repressed in the very back of my brain and whenever a friend brings it up, I roll my eyes and make a self-deprecating joke.
I was prom queen my senior year of high school.
My boyfriend and I were nominated mostly because we were the only couple that was still together after almost four years. When we found out we were nominated, we laughed it off because, come on, what were the odds of us winning? I was — and still am — everything a prom queen is not.
I write this hesitatingly because I don't want to sound like those girls who pride their whole existence on "not being like other girls." Pop culture has filled our heads with the archetype that prom queens are all evil, blonde cheerleaders and the prom kings are douche-bag football players. In real life, though, it's not quite like that. A prom queen does not have to have a specific look. Usually, however, prom queens are very outgoing and graceful.
I am neither of those things.
To be honest, I didn't care all too much about prom. In fact, I was really only in it for the after-party. But when I arrived with my friends, there were three glass jars filled with stones — one for each of the couples nominated for prom queen and king. Every time a person cast their vote, a stone would be added to the jar. This, of course, gave me tremendous anxiety because I did not want to win. There is nothing I hate more than having all the attention on me, and when I saw that my boyfriend and I were winning by a landslide, I was tempted to leave then and there.
In retrospect I was probably overreacting, but once my anxiety gets going, there is nothing you can say to make me rational. I spent most of the night on the verge of a panic attack, unable to eat dinner or dance with my friends because the thought of winning prom queen was just too overwhelming.
Finally it was time to announce the winners. I sat at my table grimacing while my friends smiled at me with anticipation. When our names were called, I felt like I was in an altered state of reality. I don't really remember the long walk to the center of the dance floor (though I do remember being super self-conscious because I was barefoot), and the whole crowning process was a blur.
What happened next was the longest four minutes and twenty-nine seconds of my life while we slow-danced terribly to that dumb sappy John Legend song. To this day, I still get war flashbacks when I hear that song on the radio. When the song finally ended, my friends rushed to the dance floor and hugged me and took way too many pictures. And in that moment, things weren't so bad.
People I had never talked to in my life were hugging me and congratulating me, and it was all a bit overwhelming. But at that point, I just rolled with it. When my family members found out that me of all people had won prom queen, they were in disbelief. My grandpa even asked if the election was rigged, and honestly, I don't even blame him.
Today my crown and sash are stuffed in a storage box somewhere up in my closet, but behind all my eye-rolls and cringing, the memory of that night still feels warm.
