Since it’s easier currently to laugh than to think about what’s actually going on in our little corner of the universe, I present to you—

1993.

It was a good year.

I, after years of dreaming the Big Dream, had gotten myself invited to the PROM. THE prom. I had deluded dreams about THE prom. I thought it was this, like, magical place…where boys danced nicely with their dates…there was no drama…you ate fancy food…drank sparking cider…perhaps acted like adults rather than catty teenagers?

oh, wait…

Now, in Mayberry, PA, there are no dress shops. The popular girls (who had fundage to back their plans), got to go to Philadelphia, or New York, or—gasp—THE Chateau (the expensive dress shop in the nearest “big town”) for their prom gowns.

Not me.

Actually, I’d have rather died than to be taken in to a dress shop. I just sort of wanted a dress to magically appear. And fit.

Also, I had NO! Idea! that the Prom meant life was all drama from February until May!

These girls were out for blood.

Nobody, and I mean nobody from Mayberry or the surrounding 43 counties, better have the same dress as someone else.

Fingernails were painted the exact shade of the dress.

Makeup was purchased by the gallon.

Tanning teenage girls were seen shivering in the early April sun, laying on decks on lounge chairs that still had 3 inches of snow beneath them.

Hair appointments (on the day of the prom) were made with mere minutes to spare before the boyfriend was to arrive for the quintessential 2 hour photo shoot in front of Momma’s blooming lilacs.

So, I had this lovely picture in my head.

Enters: Momma.

She comes home from work positively giddy. Her boss’s wife had just gone through her closet and had 47 old bridesmaids dresses that I could try on for the prom.

I was dang near sold on a Laura Ashley flowery number with humongous shoulder pads.

But, from there, on the back of the sofa, it called to me. The dark emerald satin glimmered in the afternoon sunlight…the black lace overlay that itched so bad I nearly scratched my arms off…it was (deep breath) perfect.

Let’s talk about this picture for a minute. That’s me, there on the left. Yes, I am carrying a bouquet fit for a wedding (which was made of dried flowers, so I could keep it!). What you can’t see is my matching green velvet heels. Oh yes. There in the middle. That’s my cousin…she went for the understated look. Didn’t want anyone to notice her too much. Also, because I’m awesome, I took the liberty of using coordinating colors to conceal the identities of the poor boys who suffered through all this drama with us.

Remembering back to 1993, there were so many songs that popped in to my brain

But, in true form, I found the theme song of all theme songs for 1993.

So, where were you in 1993? Got a good prom picture? Were you with me at Mayberry High School’s prom in 1993? Let’s laugh!

Wanna blog about 1993…or 1982…or whatever? Join me in Theme Song Thursday!