Odds are good that if I ask to be able to skip up to Jersey for Saturday night as long as I return as early as possible on Sunday, I will be granted this request, given the rarity of the situation. But what if I'm not.
Since I've been out of high school, I've had this event built up in my head as the redemption time. The moment I walk into the room and can prove that I'm not the dorky weird girl that really was bothered by everything, that questioned everything I ever did and that I don't regret so much or that I wouldn't make a thousand changes if only I knew then what I know now or would do it all differently if I could. I would show up, walk in confident with some fabulous life that is so engrossing that I can't be bothered to think about high school anymore. Oh, yes...Guy Who Mocked Me Mercilessly...I think I remember you... I'd casually screw some dude who thought he was hot shit back then and walk away. I'd be the Fat Monica who grew up to be Carrie Bradshaw.
And I'm not. I'm still fat and I don't have that sort of fabulous job that I can coyly blow off as no big deal when people want to know how fabulous it is. I have the sort of job that doesn't mean anything when I say what I do and that I have to work on the Saturday night of my 10 year reunion. I'm still the type of person who thinks about high school enough to make up ridiculous little fantasies about screwing the people who made fun of me and trying to plot the best way to make a good impression on people I havne't seen in 10 years. People who are probably thinking the same things I am right now.
Would missing it make me think like this for ten more years? Is seeing everyone living their similarly mundane lives going to finally get me over all this? I'm sure a lot of you are scoffing right now at how wrapped up in all this I am, but I am and that's that. It's always seemed so far away and intangible. Now it's as real as Annual Conference.