high school reunionYesterday I was doing what people think I do all day…lazing around, albeit sans bonbons, perusing Facebook as one does when one lazes about.  It was all very relaxing until this notice came across my screen – it’s time for my 20 year high school reunion!!!

~ cue the sound effects from the Psycho shower scene ~

It wasn’t even on my radar because we don’t typically have class reunions at my school.  I don’t think that there was a 10 year, or maybe it was just like every other party in high school – I just wasn’t invited.  I thought WAIT maybe they’re wrong…the party planner types don’t tend to excel at math…surely it hasn’t been 20 years…crap…they got this one right.

I am feeling a bit like Romy and Michele right now, and I figure I have a couple of options:

1. Don’t go.


2. Lose 50 pounds, win the lottery, and publish my bestselling, yet unwritten, book.

The reunion is in 4 months.

Option number 2 may be slightly unrealistic.

What am I going to do?

I can’t believe that someone would go and organize this without more warning.

Wait…yes I can.  If the person who is putting this together is as beautiful still as her profile pic would have us believe, of course she wants us all gathered around with as little notice as possible.  Hell, I would be making this an annual gathering if I looked even a quarter as good as her.

And our former school Prime Minister already has a flight booked.  He is a successful author and publisher with a poster-perfect family, and likely has bags of money.  Not Canadian money either…those are British Pounds he’s dragging around with him since he now lives in London.  The only pounds I am in possession of are as a direct result of the aforementioned eating of bonbons.

I know that I have all of the important things in my life that matter like a happy and healthy family, friends who love me, and a comfortable home, yada yada, but I just can’t get past the insecurity I feel about my failed accounting career and my out of shape body.  Add in the psychological baggage that I still carry with me from the scarring years of adolescence, and why would I want to go to this reunion?

Because nosiness always trumps insecurity.

I can’t resist.

And if all else fails, I will tell them I invented the Internet.  Because unlike Post-its, you can’t prove I didn’t.


Tara Wilson blogs over at Don’t Lick the Deck! about her bonbon eating, and the 3 high-maintenance reasons that cause her to eat all those bonbons in the first place.  She is currently pursuing fame and fortune, so please subscribe to her blog since 23 fans is slightly below the level of celebrity.  And feel free to send her money to help with the fortune part.  In British pounds please, so she can be all International Fancy-Pants.  You can find her on Facebook and Twitter too!  And now also at the gym.  In the parking lot.  Eating candy.


Tara is gainfully employed by the toughest 3 female bosses she has ever had (well except for that one accounting manager who hated her). The pay sucks, but the cuddles are awesome. She drinks a lot of coffee, uses humour as a defense mechanism, and lives in fear of what lurks in her backyard. Keep Tara company on her unfortunately-named blog Don’t Lick the Deck, where she talks about her husband Nerdguy; her 10 year old and twin 8 year old girls; parenting autism and ADHD; and her inability to shop without creating disaster. She is regular contributor to Parentdish.ca who have not yet filed a restraining order.


  1. Oh, honey! Go & be your fabulous, witty self and have a grand time! You may want to self-lubricate with vodka soda before, during & afterwards…

  2. Dude, I hear you on this one. My 15 year college reunion is this year and I am skipping it. I am using the excuse that we have to move countries as my reason for non-attendance and trying to hype up my husband’s appointment to Oxford to make myself seem more important. Hopefully everyone will be sufficiently impressed and will overlook my also non-British pounds I’ve packed along for the ride.

    Keep preaching sister, keep preaching 🙂

    • Yeah I would be throwing the Oxford thing around for sure! In fact I will be bragging about knowing someone whose husband has been appointed to Oxford. Thanks for helping me be international fancy-pants!

  3. They don’t matter. Don’t compare your backstage to their carefully edited highlight reel.
    You write, you have produced children and seem to be a decent person with perhaps a fat ass. Welcome to the club baby doll.

    • I’m not sure whether to say thank you or slap you for saying I have a fat ass. You’re lucky I can’t get myself up off this couch, so I’ll just have to go with thanks.

  4. The Dirty Girl Reply

    I feel ya on this one. I don’t know if I could go to my next reunion…unless I went with some equally insecure friends. Hey, it’s just like the parties in high school.

    • I’ll spend quite a bit of time standing against the wall and staring at my shoes to make it extra-authentic. I still do that, only now I have a phone to stare at.

  5. Pingback: Reunion Ruminations « Frustrated « BLUNTmoms

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