For senior prom in 1967, my mother, an accomplished seamstress, made my prom dress from a picture we saw in a magazine. It was absolutely gorgeous.
The problem was, I had always been such a tomboy and I couldn’t picture myself in such a girly-girl dress. Of course, I didn’t tell Mama that — I would have chewed my arm off, before making her feel her hard work was unappreciated.
The day of the prom arrived. I didn’t know which would be worse, wearing the dress, or trying to walk in matching high heels — another girly-girl thing I tried to avoid. Mama and Dad were so excited. They didn’t get to see their oldest daughter dressed up very often.
I could hear Daddy downstairs, getting his camera ready.
“Joanne? Did you see the box of flash bulbs?”
“Joe, you put them in your shirt pocket ten minutes ago.”
“Oh, here they are.”
“Cathy? Doug will be here in a few minutes. Are you ready? Is there anything I can help you with?”
“No. Thanks, Mama.”
(Standing in front of the full-length mirror)
Great. Just great. I look like a frilly girly-girl … Doug is going to laugh his ass off.
Then I had a brilliant idea. I would prank Doug.
Just then, a knock at the front door.
(Almost finished … Done!)
As I carefully came down our front stairs, I saw Doug smile.
“Damn, Babe, you look sooo beautiful!”
Midway down, I stopped and smiled broadly, revealing my blacked out two front teeth.
Doug’s face turned white. “Ho-ly Shit, Cath’! Are you okay? What are we going to do? Call a dentist? Go to the emergency room?”
Mama’s feathers were ruffled. “Catherine Jo! Tell Doug what you did and get back up those stairs!”