Public Humiliation

I seem to be flying high in this category lately.

The younger kids’ school had a Sock Hop last Friday night.  Sam wanted to skip, but Caroline was pretty revved about going. 

My neighbor friend had mentioned she had a poodle skirt that I could borrow. 

I figured I’d skip the friend-to-friend humiliation and just decline even without seeing it, knowing that her waist is probably like 48 inches less than mine. 

I left it at “Thanks, but that’s ok.  I have something.”

Big lie.  The night rolled around and after a jam-packed day and then cooking supper, I just left the kitchen mess because the Sock Hop was starting in minutes.  I still didn’t know what I would wear.  Caroline was excited about the dance part, but not so much the outfit part, surprisingly.  She said she just wanted to wear her regular clothes. 

“Well, fine but you’re gonna stand out, being the only one not dressed up for the dance.”

I quickly put on a pair of black pants and rolled them up in cuffs, put on white bobby socks, and the closest thing I had to 50’s style shoes, some black patent loafers.  I wore a white cotton button down shirt and grabbed a scarf, having to decide if should I go with pink one or black and white polka dots, and added some bright red/hot pink beads to dress it up.  Then what could I do with this hair of mine?  The only thing I knew considering it’s not ponytailable, I teased it up all big and bouffant and hair sprayed it to death.  Added some bright red lipstick we had left from Halloween and there was the look. 

“Caroline, are you sure that’s what you want to wear?  Well, fine but you’re gonna stand out being the only one not dressed up for the dance.”

We pulled into the full parking lot and finally found an open spot.  We were late.  Another car pulled in and I noticed that mom.  Didn’t look like they were late because she’d done anything to dress up for the dance.  Hmph. 

We walk in and I see no one, minus a few kids, that wore anything special to the dance.  

Right away, Caroline spotted a friend and ran off so I sat on the bleachers hoping to just blend in.  Me with my huge hair and big red lips. 

I sat quietly until Caroline sought me out for a dance.  The chicken dance was on.  So yes, the love of a mother won over and I went out onto the dance floor done up like this

 

or maybe it was actually more like this,

 

or at least that’s how goofy I felt I looked. 

I did the chicken dance with her, for all of like 30 seconds until she bolted off with friends and left me there alone to dance solo, doing the chicken dance. 

I retreated back to the bleachers and emailed Gary at home from my phone about how I felt so out of place with this costume and no one else was wearing one and he emailed back:  Heehee.

I thought about going into the ladies room and trying to undo my hair and get the lipstick off but that would have required me to walk past everyone else to get there and that would have made me seem, I thought, even more humiliatored* (my own new word), to look like I was trying to undo the damage that’d already been done. 

Another parent that I know popped over and said, “Oh, you look… cute.” 

Another acquaintance/friend of mine said, “Oh.”

I couldn’t say anything back. My mouth was full, munching on some words….“Well, fine but you’re gonna stand out being the only one dressed up for the dance.”