The Pumpernickel's High School Reunion

It seems I have much for which to be thankful.

This past whirlwind of a holiday weekend was filled many an exciting event: succulent turkey; hilarious if not slightly awkward familial boozing; and of course, the mother of all potentially horrible/awesome get togethers, my high school's Five Year Reunion.

Yes, folks. I attended my reunion on Friday night at Public Bar in Dupont. I went with low expectations and simple goals:

#1 Dress smoking hot.
Make everyone forget that weird 'cocker spaniel' haircut you sported in the 10th grade.
#2 Don't drink too much.
It's fun to see the uptight girl from high school let her hair down a bit. It's not fun to see her on the floor.
#3 Be cool.
Not a problem. I've got this one in the bag.

For the record, I wasn't exactly Myrtle Urkel in high school, but I certainly was no Regina George either.

I was a Type B personality, plain and simple. I tended to follow the pack, I was generally afraid to stick out too much and I was easily made uncomfortable in social situations. I was shy, or as the present day Pumpernickel might say, lame.

That being said, five years is a long time, especially in a developmental sense when that time spans the length of a college education. College was for me a time of growth and self-realization; I honestly remember high school as period of incubation, hardly the 'good old times' every John Hughes movie would have us believe it to be.

There was no sex. There was no rock and roll. There was only AP Physics.

Armed with the knowledge that my high school self probably wouldn't recognize my most recent incarnation (or that if she did, she'd be mightily impressed), I sashayed my way into the Thomas S. Wootton Class of 2004's Five Year Reunion.

Despite the fact that the people with whom I had kept in touch showed up about an hour late, I successfully shmoozed my way through a crowd of surprisingly familiar faces. A little secret: the only person with the power to make you feel uncomfortable is yourself. A little confidence goes a long way.

And thus, that fabled fear of the high school reunion wound up being nothing more than a myth. Nearly everyone with whom I spoke, from the old popular crowd to my former science class study buddies, seemed genuinely friendly and well-adjusted.

Nary an awkard moment was had. Though I'm sure many of my ex-classmates underwent similar transformations, I can't help but think my own personal experience was due to nothing short of a metamorphasis. Not to say I'm a cutthroat, always-on-the-go, manic Type A, but with confidence comes a better, more self-possessed gal about town. And one with no fear of high school reunions, to boot.

Of course, it doesn't hurt to look completely different and to be successfully pursuing an exciting career path. Perhaps those factors influenced my perception of things as well.

All I can say is thank goodness for growing up. I wouldn't be 15 years old again for all the money in the world. I do wish, however, that I could shadow my younger self like some kind of uber-chic fairy godmother. My message: hang in there, it's gonna be OK.