It all begins with the dress. Prom is a wedding, a wedding for high school girls where every girl is a blushing bride, minus the lifetime commitment of monogamy,wedding dresses dresses, the cultural pressure to wear demure white, and with a surprisingly higher likelihood of losing one’s virginity.
The seamstress who made my prom dress lived on the dilapidated side of town, and really,gowns, that sentence just says everything about my prom experience. In place of a discernable set of samples or a resume, she had a thank you card from Shania Twain on her wall. She worked on Twain’s first wedding in a part of Ontario even more northern than where I lived.
At the time, I never thought I would look back on prom and laugh. I regarded the fail that was supposed to be the biggest night in a high school girl’s career with the typical melodramatic tears and cries of “My life is OVER!” But I’m skipping ahead a bit. Let’s go through the events that led to my face being in a pillow for 12 hours
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