twenty years later

I went to my 20-year class reunion last Saturday, and - wonder of wonders - I was the only one in the class pregnant. As if the 2o-year thing weren't enough, but pregnant? Definitely not happening.

In keeping with my original intent (documenting this pregnancy), Saturday marked THE WORST headache ever. Around 1 pm (I don't think I, 10-cup-a-day'er, had had one droplet of caffeine to that point), a dull paincloud formed where my left eye usually resides. It proceded up the left side of my face and held at my hairline, inflicting great vengeance on the top-left quarter of my face. So, there I am, laying in bed with one functioning eyeball, thinking it's probably a good idea to skip the reunion. Even on my best day, making small talk with strangers - worse, people who knew me 20 years ago in a tertiary way and worse still, without alcohol- is major stress. Truth is, I couldn't wait to leave high school.
So, the internal dialog went something like this:
I talk to my best friend every day; I don't need to go the the reunion to see her.
You've already purchased the tickets.
Was that an anneurism?
you haven't gained any weight since high school, and you look pretty good for an old lady.
STFU! I'm carrying at least 67 pounds of water weight, and the zit on my chin is bigger than my large toe.
your husband's a hottie, worthy of showing off. You'll be perceived as hot and successful by association.
My head might explode when I attempt to shower. Those water droplets pack a wallup.
you know you want to catch up with some of the folks from the class of '88.
Matt's dead and will be rolling over in his coffin at the thought of attending our 20th. He's probably the one behind this headache, making a last-ditch effort to save me from reunion hell.
It'll be fun (gauntlet thrown.)

And, oddly enough, it was. I think the point of the reunion is to allow the attendees can say, without pretense, "look at me! I've endured. I know, I know. I can't believe it, either, but here I am." In some way, we justify each other by validating our past. The further out I get from 1988, the easier it is to forget who I was. So, the reunion reminded me of who I was. It also made clear that I'm not that person anymore.