This Thursday I am flying to Kansas City for a long weekend with a bunch of people I knew back when I was younger and much more taut. It is an informal reunion of our 20th anniversary of leaving our homes and trying to survive in the concrete rooms and communal bathrooms of the university dorm. One of the members, Kelly or Kellster Meister lest she be confused with the Southern Belle Kelly Lynne who I often write about here, and I have kept in touch over the years, but the rest have gone their ways and established lives I know virtually nothing of other than the updates Kelly gives me. Some I saw not too long after Loren was born and a few I have not seen since I was 20 and carefree. On the one hand I am really looking forward to seeing all these people who meant so much to me in the drama of my first years away from home. On the other hand…well, the thing is that I have aged. We were all so young and confident in fun, foolish ways and now I feel none of that. In 48 hours Kellster and I will be chatting up a storm, not the part I am starting to dread, and then the next day our reunion weekend will begin. This is the part I am sort of dreading.
What if these people are all uber successful with well behaved children who actually know how to chew food and swallow it or who aren’t failing biology? What if their skin is aging well and not suffering sun damage? What if they haven’t gained 30 extra pounds, 35 if we’re being brutally honest? Most of them have spouses and homes of their own. I will be the lone divorcee who lives with my mother and who is markedly heavier than when we last parted. Fuck. It’s too late to back out. It’s too late to shed 35 pounds. I am getting my eyebrows waxed tomorrow. It might not cover up the extra weight but a good pair of brows go for a lot. It’s not much but it’s all I’ve got at this point. It’s pretty sketchy that everything now hinges on my sleek brows. Shit.
