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The insistent buzzer goes off and refuses to shut up until I drag my lazy butt out of bed. I stumbled blindly towards my alarm, hoping I wouldn’t crash into anything. Once I’ve smacked that stupid alarm clock, my eyelids flutter reluctantly opening.
The bright blue light enters my pupil and fries any of the rods that might still be activated. 8:00 a.m. it reads. And it was a Saturday.
“Why did I agree to do this?” I groaned to the stale, stagnant air. My phone chimed, alerting me to a new text message. I shuffled to the opposite side of my room, to tiered to even lift my feet up the half a centimeter it would take to walk properly. I snatched my phone off of the bed where it had been charging. I slammed my screen and the message on it read; good morning sweetheart –kiss- I love you.
I smiled at my phone, that’s why I’m doing this, I thought to myself. My spirits lifted and my eyelids less heavy, I trudged up the stairs from my dungeon and into the kitchen. I took in a deep breath, letting the air expand my lungs. I held it there for just a moment before letting it escape in a rather satisfying whoosh.
There was one second of serenity before all hell broke loose and I was in a race against time to get ready for what was supposed to be “the best night of my life.”
First, I went down the carpeted hallway and into the bear themed bathroom, I threw down the hoodie and torn up jeans I’d been carrying, and turned on the water as hot as I could possible stand without scalding my skin.
After ten minutes of standing under the soothing water I had to shut off it off, climb out of the tub, and scramble into my jeans and hoodie.
“Hurry up, Brittany.” My mom called from the kitchen. “We have to get your nails done.” I groaned at the thought of sitting still for twenty minutes while my mom poured glue all over my nails and pinched down the plastic piece of purple glitter so it could enclose my natural nail; pinch it all night, so I my nails could match my dress.
I shuffle my way down the hall, still not entirely awake. “Can I eat first?” I asked my mom. She looked up from her computer screen, where she’d no doubt been checking her Facebook news feeds.
“Of course, find something to eat and then we’ll do your nails.” I went over to the pantry and grabbed a pack of ramen and started to boil the water. As I waited (a bit impatiently) I asked my mom when my hair appointment was.
“Two hours.” She answered returning her eyes to the computer screen.
With ramen in my stomach and my nails a hard piece of plastic, I went to my hair appointment. My hair dresser, Robin, came and sat with me and asked how I wanted my hair done.
“I want curls pulled off to one side, like a ponytail, but prettier.” She promised she could do it.
An hour and half, twenty bobbie pins, and two cans of hairspray later, my hair was done and it was truly perfect.
My mom didn’t approve. “It’s to plain,” she said. So off we went to the Walgreens on the corner to pick up a new hair accessory to make my hair “more exciting.”
Six dollars later, we were on our way home, just in time for me to struggle into my dress my mother had bought a month prior.
It was a beautiful, floor length gown, not exactly skin tight, but it was slim and closely fitted. It had two straps about a two finger width, with silver clasps encrusted with fake diamonds holding them in place. The material was filled with sparkles and shifted from light purple to dark purple as it flowed down my body.
I loved my dress as much as any girl could love her prom dress and when I put it on . . . it was too big on top and kept exposing my bra in the back. I was dismayed and as I looked at the clock I realized my boyfriend would arrive at my house in only twenty minutes.
My mom led me to the bath room and she added two or three safety pins to the back of my dress so that it would hopefully stay up while I danced that night. A hurried application of foundation, eye shadow, eye liner, and lip gloss, my face was perfect and matched my dress flawlessly.
However ready I felt, I was still missing jewelry. I grabbed my heart pendent which was silver with more faux diamonds in the middle. Then I had to re-pierce my ears with my new hoops because it had been a while since I had worn any form of ear jewelry. Then I added two bracelets and an anklet (all heart themed of course) to complete my ensemble.
Ding Dong. He was here. I paused, took a deep breath and went into the living room.
He smiled at me dressed in a rented tux with a deep purple vest and a purple tie. “You look beautiful.” He beamed as he came over to give me a hug.
As we ended our embrace we heard, “get together so we can take pictures,” and then we were blinded by the flashing of two cameras even though it felt like one hundred.
Once the paparazzi had had there fun, we got into Mikes car and drove down to the Italian Center.
It surprisingly wasn’t hard to find parking. We stood in line waiting for the doors to open when one of my most dear friends came in and began flirting with my boyfriend. Oh this most certainly was going to be a long night.
Once the doors finally parted, we were led into a grandiose room with ceilings so high they’d need a trapeze artist to clean them. The chandeliers that hung down were gorgeous as each glistening crystal reflected the light perfectly. It was almost like being in an old Victorian ballroom. It was beautiful.
Dinner was served after an hour of sitting and staring awkwardly at the other people sharing our table. The food, if you could call it that, was unrecognizable as well as bland, overcooked, and downright disgusting. I was told that I was eating potatoes but I could taste eggs which I’m allergic to and I ended up getting sick because of it. Then there was chicken marsala, I think, or at least that’s what it was supposed to be. The pasta was merely rubber byproduct with a slathering of overly processed tomato paste. So over all dinner was delicious!!
After dinner the dancing finally started. The DJ was very . . . on noted. He only played one type of music. The annoying kind with the same beat that the rest of the school decided was good to grind to. For about an hour that’s all we heard until the first slow song came.
My boyfriend of nearly two years asked me if I’d like to dance and of course I said yes. We made our way slowly to the dance floor trying not to bump into any of the other moving bodies. Once our feet finally touched the faux wood, he put his arms around my waist and I put my arms around his neck.
“I love you, sweetheart.” He said bending down to kiss me and that’s when I knew.
Even though the day started off rocky, the food was inedible, and the DJ didn’t know how to play a diverse music selection. Even though, I really hadn’t wanted to be there, I knew that it was all worth it. I had his arms around me, his lips on mine, and most importantly I had his love.
Once our lips finally parted, I whispered, “I love you too.” And I meant it with every part of my being.