I wore a dress I designed myself: forest green velvet bodice with a black chiffon skirt. Bryan was too cool to wear a tux; he picked me up in his dad's classic Volkswagen Microbus. There were no seats in the back, so he put down a mattress with a pile of crochet blankets his grandma had made and we parked way out in the middle of nowhere and slept there after everything.
Fast forward to now when we are all paradoxically worried about protecting our private information with encrypted identities and passwords that we forget while simultaneously oversharing our online persona, myself included (especially myself). Because, see? Once upon a Thursday I was younger, my eyebrows thicker, and what is up with my hair? Thank god you cannot actually see the dress I designed. I post this as a #MeToo, but also, admittedly, as a #GiveMeValidation, #ForWhatIDontKnow. I am annoyed with myself while also loving the collective nostalgia that is Throwback Thursday when we all post photos of a time that seemed simpler, dorkier, our skin smoother. Because, see? That is all. Just see me, and I will see you.
(What you cannot see but I will tell you is that it rained later that night after prom and at daybreak we fell asleep on the mattress listening to metal pings of rain on the roof of the VW bus while sticking our toes through the holes in the crochet and somewhere I still have that awful dress in a box.)