All throughout my high school years I anticipated the day until I could go to prom. My parents were never the type to let me go to dances, but I still waited for what was suppose to be one of the happiest and most memorable days of my life: a day to tell my children and grandchildren about to get them hype for their own. A day to look back on and simplistically smile on how wonderful the memory was. But after four eager years of waiting, I was only left with disappointment on my physiognomy and awful memories. I have ever since been reluctant to talk about that unpleasant day because of my own dread and despair.
During prom my senior year I was still trying to get over a relationship that had ended a couple months prior, which had lasted 2 years, and as I result I had no date. Originally, I thought about ditching the dance and maybe finding something else to do. It also felt weird knowing I would go alone to prom without a date, even though I only dreamed many times of a fairy-tale-like-style prom where I was asked out very publicly and walking side-by-side with my brilliant Prince Charming. I had not a single wooer and I faced the reality headstrong like the independent individual I pride myself to be. I gladly accepted my friend’s invitation to get ready with them and go with them to the dance, and I thought I could not be happier than to be with such great company.
The day of prom did not start off too great because my mother seemed unamused by this silly little American culture. Maybe I did not explain to her how much it meant to me since I have never had a great communication with her. However, despite her little knowledge of this dance she willingly paid for my dress and my hair to be professionally done. Although, I hated my hair: the hair style seemed too lose, did not mix well with my face shape, and later I realized that it did not suit my dress. I even hated my makeup and how everything I had picked out for this special night made me distraught. As it dawned closer to the time of the dance, I did not feel confident in my beautiful dress I had chosen anymore and the vibe in the atmosphere was too unrealistic. I felt like everything around me was just a joke and I no longer knew why I was stuck going to this dance: I felt like I had made a mistake.
The night continued on; I had a fancy dinner at my friend’s house along with my peers, took some photos, and was supposedly ready for the oddly confused limbo-party bus to take us to the dance location. Once at the dance everything seemed smug mixed with snobbish vibes and the night went by fast. I danced with my friends, enjoyed a couple of fake-alcoholic drinks because there seemed nothing else to drink at the time, and got into an argument with my ex-boyfriend. My night was instantly ruined an hour before the dance was suppose to be over. I stopped dancing, went outside to the patio to sit and silently and discreetly mope because in truth I was not having a great time. I enjoyed being there with my friends, however I had to convince myself to the point where I actually believed I was having a good time.
After the dance, my friends and I went to our favorite diner to grab some grub. I surely had to beg and convince my parents to let me stay out a little later. Even the time spent eating came to a fast end and in no time I had to call my parents to pick me up. They did not even let me stay the night with my friends, despite the fact that they would be picking me up at 2 in the morning. I got home disappointed that my parents would not let me continue to enjoy the rest of night/morning with my friends and I felt bitter on how the whole night turned out.
Looking back at the pictures I took during the course of the day and night, I could see I was not really happy but instead I was putting a façade to the world because deep down inside I was miserable. I wanted to be happy and my beautiful smile put on a great show, but my diligent eyes spilled the truth to the brave soul interested enough to look. I do not regret going to my prom. I also do not regret how the night turned out to my disappointment. However, if I had a choice of choosing again I would certainly choose not to go because there was no lesson learned that night: I was mostly clouded with sadness and gained one awful memory
