Things I learnt at my high school reunion...

If you get the chance to go, do. Skinny jeans, red peep toes, leopard print clutch and a silky black top is apparently all you need!

Some people never change.... and some people do.

Girls age much better than boys... hello and welcome to balding!

Wear good dancing shoes... after 3 champagnes and no food, you WILL get your rhythm on when they start playing Madonna!

Wear the name tag provided... some people you simply will not remember.

Teacher's may show up, particularly ones that still teach at your high school 20 years later.  It's possibly inappropriate to regale them with tales of how much you were in love with your drama teacher... and your maths tutor... especially when they still know them in a professional work capacity.

After 20 years, it is possible to get over high school. The girl I was most afraid of in high school didn't even come... and frankly, I was prepared for her if she did!

I am ALL class!

 

Telling all the boys that you secretly lusted after in high school that you secretly lusted after them in high school is really quite liberating.  Lining them up and forcing them to have their photo with you is possibly crossing the line.

Leave at an appropriate hour with some of your dignity still intact.

Oh, and last but by no means least...

Chris Harris is still a spunk 20 years later!

Reunions...go...or no?

I'm heading back to Tassie on Friday for the weekend.  Apart from squeezing in some time with my mum, dad, sisters and nieces I will be going to my high school's 20 year reunion.  I am not sure if this is a wise move or not as I have been in a quandry for weeks about dieting and what to wear in an attempt to impress people that I literally have nothing to do with anymore. 

 I, of course, have done the sneaky facebook search on people to make sure they were fatter, less successful and had married balding men and ended up with ugly babies!  Alas, no.  Everyone looks suitably happy with normal looking families.

For your amusement, here's what I won't be wearing on Saturday night....

 Yes, that is a red taffeta dress with a gigantic red bow on the arse, teamed with tasteful low heels.  And a bubble fringe.  It was 1991.  And from memory we hired this lovely number from a bridal shop for $30.

And that's not my date.  That's my dad.

 This is my date.  Andrew.... otherwise know as Bubs.

Please do not ask me why.

 I looked so impressed with it.

A taffeta explosion!  Oh girls, what were we thinking!

Looking at this picture I had a little flashback.  Phillipa (the girl in white right at the end) lived across the road from our high school and we would go to her house for lunch and watch Dirty Dancing... a lot!  I still know the entire script of that movie!

Nobody puts Baby in the corner!

Oh, Patrick, how we loved you.

Did you go to your high school reunion?  What on earth did you wear?