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Reunion blues

Recently I went shopping for some special occasion outfits. I dressed up because I thought it might help salvage my dignity in case I didn't find anything flattering to buy.

I've come to the conclusion that a tunic dress is not the style for me...unless I want to look like a snake that swallowed a rat.

Baby doll dresses make me look like I'm having a baby.

So I decided to take my mom up on her suggestion and try on today's version of a corset to help me slim the appearance of my mid-section. Have you ever watched a balloon artist? That's what I looked like -- a human balloon squeezed tightly in the middle.

Yes, it did slim my belly. However it also divided the rolls of fat on my back and I popped out of both the top and bottom.

This is not nearly as flattering as the super spandex underwear that sucks in your lumpiness from the knee to just beneath the breast. It made me look like an over-inflated cyclist and I am fairly certain that my legs turned a shade of purple and blue.

I almost bought them. I thought that maybe I could pass it off as a tan. Any color is better than translucent.

Instead I shucked off the Nazi underwear from h-e-double hockey sticks, hung the withered and deflated thing back on the rack and slinked off, mortified.

Why did I put myself through all that? Four words. Twentieth High School Reunion.

To decide on an outfit for your high school reunion is to determine who you have become. I know who I am, but I won't have the usual accessories when I go to the reunion, which means I won't be hollering for those accessories to sit down and be quiet.

Like many moms, my kids define who I am. A high school reunion can be an opportunity to define who we are without kids. I...am Mrs. Potato Head.

Mrs. Potato Head is lumpy and pear-shaped (with a great tan). I am the peeled version. I have large shoes and a large purse. I have an expression for every occasion if I combine the right smile and set of eyes. But I have nothing to wear to my reunion!

Yes, my closet is full of dresses but they are too big for the girl I used to be. And then it occurs to me. Why would I want to be that girl anyway? She was shy, awkward and terrified of the future. She wanted to be funny, speak her mind and feel good in her own skin.

She wanted to be who I have become. I think I'll just go as me.

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