I actually posted a couple of my prom pics last year on my other blog, after my prom date revealed himself to be at least an occasional reader of it (Hi, Jason!). Before I post them here, I'll have to give you a little psychological background, so that you can better understand the choosing of my dress.
I had a serious case of Scarlett fever when I was in middle school. More than anything else, I longed to wear corsets and hoopskirts. I wanted to ride sidesaddle and have a house full of servants catering to my every whim. I wanted Clark Gable to rescue ME from Atlanta as it burns. And god did I ever want those dresses.
Here's a picture of me at the age of 13 posing for my grandmother in an old formal that belonged to either my mother or my aunt (Suzie? Mom? Who wants to claim credit for this confection?):
Here's another shot of the same dress, this time on my cousin Julie, and me in my bathing suit. I'm putting it up mostly because I can't believe I was ever that skinny. Also, I promise you, we are standing that way because Grandma posed us. (Mom, Suzie, tell them! Tell them that Grandma made us stand that way!):
Now that you understand my obsession with big poofy dresses, I have to share with you the sad story of how I came to have PTDS. That's Post Traumatic Dress Syndrome. When I was in eighth grade, my school had a huge formal dance. I spent the evening in a cafeteria filled with teenagers who looked like extras from the barbecue scene in Gone With the Wind. I was wearing this, what I will always remember as The Really Bad Dress:
Three years later when it was time to select the dress for my one and only senior prom (yeah, I was 16 when I graduated--wanna make something of it?), I needed more than a dress. I needed a cure for the psychological scars inflicted by The Really Bad Dress. I found it in a bridal shop in downtown DeLand--yards and yards of lovely peach satin spread out across a huge hoopskirt.
My poor photos have not held up very well, or maybe everything was orange in 1983 and I just don't remember it. Here are the pictures I posted on the old blog last year:
Me with Jason on the front porch:
Me trying to cram my enormous hoopskirt into Jason's car, the Mighty Maverick Moose Mobile:
And here are some pictures I copied out of my photo album just a little while ago:
My mom helping me put my shoes on (dig the high-tech computer in the background):
A portrait in front of the piano:
My mom fastening the pearls that Jason psychically willed to fall:
I tried on my prom dress when I was back home in Florida last fall. I'm sad to report that the zipper doesn't come anywhere close to fastening. Not that I would necessarily wear that dress today, but it would be nice to know that I could if I wanted to.
Tagging is only fun if you pass it on, so I'm tagging Deana (because I know she has rather recent pictures of her prom dress, but I can't remember if I ever got to see teenage Deana in the dress) and Chris (because guys should get the opportunity to post prom pictures, too).
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