Today (although I’m writing it the day before because rebel) is our Year 13 Prom. It’s being held in a quite fancy venue, our year-group – or as many as bought tickets – together for the final time before Results’ Day. I don’t know what to expect but considering that before Year 11 Prom, it was really hectic, I’m guessing it’ll be even more hectic this time.
My dress is a medium blue, with little white and pink flowers on it. After it got adjusted, it fits me really well and I’m happy with how I feel in it. As for makeup and hair, I have no idea what I’ll do – I think I might have my hair down but who knows? I’m attempting to be more relaxed about this. It’s failing.
I can’t help but be a little nervous. Unlike my Year 11 Prom, I’m not getting my hair or makeup professionally done. My friends are helping me with it and I think it’s a testament to how much I utterly love them and how much more I’ve opened up that I trust them enough to help with my appearance. However, I’m still worried. It’s not a reflection on my friends but rather can be explained by my wild insecurities that won’t – excuse my language – fuck off.
Perhaps it’s a bunch of internalisation talking but I know I still look like a child. I don’t want to look like that when I’m at the Prom but at the same time, I still want to look like myself. It really upsets me when people dismiss my appearance and treat me differently, or less seriously, because of it. It makes me feel hideous, the constant belief that I look far too young to be 18, that I look ridiculous, that I’m putting on a show of adulthood when really, I’ll always look fragile and small. This may all seem ridiculous and I’m trying to get rid of the frustrated scream that’s caught inside my throat. Time with friends will help that to diminish.
Before Prom, we’re having a pre-Prom at my friend Swan’s house. Three of us – Swan, someone who I’ve decided to call Owl and I – are getting ready together because having photos with some of our group, then going to school and finally to the venue itself. It’ll give me a chance to calm down, I think, from all the nerves.
I know that I’ll have a wonderful time, surrounded by people I genuinely respect and love. This is the final celebration, if you will, of my secondary education. Or, in less formal terms, a time where I take the piss out of myself and everyone else, dance horribly, stave off mental breakdowns and say a last goodbye to people I won’t see again for ages, or possibly ever.
After Prom, I think that a lot of the year are going into town, potentially going clubbing. I’ve never been clubbing before so it should be interesting at best and disastrous at worst. Me drunk is horrifying, to say the least, and I expect by the time I get back to my friend’s house, I’ll be exhausted. If I do end up wearing heels, I may fall over which would complete the disastrous blind stereotype I’m going for.
It’s just a shame that the majority of my year are still strangers to me. Now, it feels too late to start to get to know those I haven’t known before. Saying that, maybe I can show myself for one final time before everything changes that I can make an impression, that I’m special in a little way, that these 7 years haven’t been for nothing.
I want to do that. I don’t want to be scared. Most of all? Selfishly, perhaps, I want to be beautiful to myself.
Have you had Prom yet? How did it go?
From Elm 🙂