Good morning, loves. As I stretched out of my long slumber this morning, my first thought was: I need coffee. And my second thought was: how about Starbucks? Yes, I know, I'm not doing very well avoiding Starbucks. I try to keep my money local for mostly everything else, save for the grocery store and the very-occasional lunch at a brand-name restaurant. But this morning I just had to have a salted caramel hot chocolate + double espresso. The drink is heavenly, but I'm over the lack of seating and lack of windows at Starbucks. Next time I will go to the local coffeehouse that I love - the coffee house that grows and roasts their own coffee beans, has fat chairs to lounge in, and is covered in walls of windows.
Anyway. I promised you all a story. I plan to post one story a week. The stories will be something that left me mortified or embarrassed. This unnamed series (I need a clever title!) of stories are meant to be light-hearted; in the scheme of things, these experiences are very insignificant, but at the time made blush creep over my cheeks and the back of my neck.
It's the spring of my senior year of high school; the season of acceptance letters, prom, and graduation. My junior and senior year of high school I dated a guy that lived two hours away. So when I was asked to prom my junior year by a guy that went to my high school, I declined saying that I was dating someone, but thank you anyway. Declining my friend's casual invitation meant I only had one shot to make prom the mostmagicalthingthateverhappened: my senior year. I spent several hours (sorry, mom!) the spring of senior year looking for the perfect dress. I finally found the dress on a weekend trip to Kansas City. It was a white, strappy Betsey Johnson with the proverbial Betsey Johnson glittery sparkles. The morning of prom I got my hair and make up done. My out-of-town boyfriend (we'll call him A) would arrive around 2 and we were going to take pictures with my friends at 3:30. A was a little late, but we were going to be having a luxurious dinner with several friends and then we'd be dancing the night away, so I didn't mind. "You look gorgeous," A murmured when he arrived clad in a t-shirt and shorts. "Thank you," I gushed. "Now go get dressed so we can go dance!" He grabbed his suit and disappeared to the bathroom.
A few minutes later he came out and said, "Um. I forgot...I forgot my pants." WHAT! HOW COULD YOU NOT BRING YOUR SUIT PANTS!! I blankly stared at him. "I could just wear the suit jacket with my shorts." Oh, you could? You can wear a black suit jacket with navy cargo shorts? No. My mother, a true saint, ran to the mall and bought an almost-matching pair of black pants for A, but I was livid that the first half of our pictures feature A donning freaking cargo shorts. (And mad that we were late to prom pictures because of the pants fiasco.) Conclusion: prom is not magical. At the end of the night we had all had a good time, but the night would have been just as fun without the $300 dress, the $100 dinner, and the feeling in the pit of my stomach when A came out of the bathroom and said he didn't have his prom pants. Looking back, this story makes me laugh. At the time, however, I felt my seventeen year old world crashing in the form of nasty navy cargo shorts.
Oh, and to add to my stories of embarrassment, I just realized I've been sitting at the table designated for handicapped customers the entire time I've been at Starbucks. What a jerk.
Hope you all are having a nice week! I can almost taste the weekend...