what about prom, blane? no. what about prom? no. WHAT ABOUT PROM!

Sometimes the universe hands you a really amazing gift you can't imagine not sharing with others. My gift came when I sat down to watch this week's episode of 18 Kids and Counting (like you don't), and Josh Duggar turned to wife Anna's prenatal nurse, who'd just asked morning-sickness ravaged Anna if she was taking her prenatal vitamins, and said, "Anna's a master swallower!" I swear to you, Seth punched me so hard on the arm I spilled the lowfat microwave popcorn we were sharing and then we fell to our knees to thank the sweet, sweet Lord for that line.

That, friends, is an example of a gift that demands sharing, so I'm saddened The Internet hasn't yet provided me that particular clip anywhere. WTH, Internet?! What's a gift that doesn't warrant sharing? Oh, a little something called My Prom Photos. However, in what I can only assume is what's known as peer pressure (which I can only imagine, having seen enough ABC Afterschool Specials about the perils of speed and teen pregnancy - though not at the same time - to know not to succumb in high school), this post...sigh...this post contains images that may not be suitable for any of you, but I'm sharing them because Stiletto Mom and Blissfully Caffeinated had the fantastic idea we do this. The part of me that remembers hiding in the bathroom during P.E. to avoid being picked last for volleyball imagines these two already very beautiful women, and everyone else who melted at their wiles and posted their photos, will have gorgeous, completely unembarrassing prom pictures on their blogs, and then here's me, wondering why John Travolta's laughing at me and The Greatest American Hero's passed out at my feet.

So, lucky you!

You know what makes this even more awesome? I've been blogging for nearly three years and very few of you know what I actually look like, so for that first glimpse, why not show you how lame ass I looked at 17? I expect those of you who do know what I look like to immediately flood the comments telling everyone what a stone cold fox I am.

So aw(ful)esome!

Sigh....

I know what you're probably thinking right now. You're thinking, "Hey, didn't she just allude to the fact she WASN'T a stone cold fox in 1985?? Who the hell does she think she's kidding? Because baby, somebody should call the zookeeper and tell them it appears a tigress has escaped." Stop it. You're embarrassing me! Here's what I think you should be thinking when you see this photo from my junior year: "Hey, did you say these were photos of YOU going to the prom? Yeah? Then how come you look like a 41 year old woman instead of a 17 year old girl?!"
I know, right?! Seriously, I must be taking magical Benjamin Button supplements because I seriously look younger today than I did in my teens and and 20s. I suppose that's what no longer giving a rat's ass about what the popular girls think of you does to a person. Or maybe it was nixing the whole perm thing and losing the frosted purple lipstick, which, if you click on that photo to make it bigger (but OMG, why would you want to), you'd see I was wearing. Sexy's just another word for scary.

My dress was a stunning pale purple frock of the finest imported polyester ordered direct from the fashion house of JC Penney's. The straps, kissed by the ruffled lips of angels, doubled as a seductive enchantress by draping casually off the shoulder if one desired to be daring and dangerous. As you can imagine, such a move was employed during slow dances to Careless Whisper, Heaven or I Miss You. Do I have a photo of it like that? No, and for that, I apologize. However, if it's skin you want (and based on the emails I so often get from the random paramours wishing to see, and I quote, "my boobies!"), then it's skin I shall give you!

Oh, yeah, baby! The smirk says, "For the love of God, can we stop taking photos now?" but the leg says, "Mmm, Legss Sheer Comfort control top pantyhose in realistic Suntan!" I believe it was Roxette who said it best when they sang, "Tasty like a raindrop. She's got the look!" It's especially crazy that they said it three years before that song even came out. Inspiration, perhaps? I don't even want to presume to imagine. By the way, I still have that garter should anyone wish to hang it from the rear view mirror of their pickup truck.

You're probably wondering if a MILFy looking 17 year old like me had a date for the junior prom (which was themed "When You Wish Upon A Star" - LAME). Oh, yes, my friends. I absolutely had a date, and if you think I was hot, check out the sizzlin' hunk of high school hotness who took me there in my Dad's bitchin' midlife crisis Camero! Tommy lived one house down from mine (convenient!) and we spent every night together (rawr!)(except not really)(as you'll soon find out) playing basketball in my driveway, working at Target after school, or taking turns going for drives in our Dodge Darts - yes, we had the same cars! That, I believe, is the definition of destiny. Tommy was the first boy to see my shoulders AND my boobs, and I fully intended to have his last name one day.

Oh, fate, you cruel mistress...

Do you remember the spring dance episode of Beverly Hills 90210 when Dylan gently deflowers Brenda in the hotel room they retired to after skipping out of the festivities (hardcore BH-Niner fans can click the link and watch the entire episode!)? Yeah, well, is that the outline of a Skoal can in your tuxedo pocket, Tommy, or are you just happy to see me? My adorable and sweet high school boyfriend, who just happened to conveniently live one house down and was not only the first boy to see my boobs but ACTUALLY TOUCH THEM, had other plans for us to mark this Very Special Episode of our lives. But look closer at that photo (if you must). Do you see that look on my naive little face? That look is why I like to call this photo "Like A Virgin" (alternate title - "Yearning for Zion"). Remember what I said about peer pressure? Well, I'd also read enough Judy Blume books to know there were consequences to teen sex! Despite his best efforts and his strong lips, my nun-like resolve (good lord, but I was a loser) prevailed, which proved to be most wise and lucky on my part. Soon after we broke up early in our senior year, Tommy began dating a classmate and impregnated her with his Sperm O' Magic, gifting her with what would ultimately be the first of FIVE children he'd have with her before either of them were 25 that he never actually helped raise because he'd get her knocked up while home on every military leave he had.

I last saw Tommy nine years ago. Damn if that magic man still wasn't hot. Love's a bitch, Duck. Love's a bitch.

Speaking of damn, this post is getting damn long and I haven't even shared my senior prom with you. Actually, I hated my senior prom so much I have very few photos or mementos from that evening. Probably a little something to do with the fact that I appeared to be rocking a minor chick mullet, my dress fit poorly, and look like I ate my date - who was neither my cousin nor lived out of state and/or in France during the school year - instead of the delicious Village Inn meal he took me to prior to taking me to the dance and proceeding to stand against the wall with his buddies the entire night. So you know what? I think I'm going to sit out that one and let you go dance with some of the others who are sharing their prom photos today. Please visit The Stiletto Mom and Blissfully Caffeinated for their posts and the links to others they'll share throughout the weekend.

But first, while I can understand why you might be ashamed to go out with me, that you might be terrified your rich friends won't approve, don't leave me hanging here thinking I'm the girl who was, is, and will always be nada (oh, Pretty In Pink, I say I love you and too much...). Leave me a comment. Maybe ask me to dance, and don't fear my incredibly pale arms and dark legs!