T Minus 6 Months

This is the first installment of what is sure to be many in the ongoing saga of preparing for my 20th high school reunion. My first instinct was to decline the invitation, so everyone would think I had something better to do (although I really don’t), but I’m afraid they’d cancel the event altogether if they found out I wouldn’t be coming, so I guess I’ll go. It’s in July, so I have less than 6 months to accomplish the things that need to happen for me to feel good about myself seeing these people for the first time since 1990. (We had a 10-year reunion, but I was married to a jealous type who thought I’d just want to go to see ex-boyfriends, so I didn’t go. The real reason I wanted to go? To see ex-boyfriends, of course. DUH.) I’ve got quite a to-do list:
1. Become rich & famous
2. Make an appearance on Oprah, 2nd choice Ellen (back-up plan necessary as don’t want to set unrealistic expectations)
3. Marry hot young stud, 2nd choice just rent one for the night (M is okay with this; I think he said he would gladly pay for an escort if he didn’t have to go.)
4. Get butt lift and breast augmentation (note to self- ask surgeon re: inject butt fat into boobs?)
5. Grow 2 inches in height, 2nd choice get teased hair piece
6. Cultivate friendships with famous types and integrate into cocktail conversation, i.e. “Just the other day, when Gwyneth and I were doing yoga, she said the funniest thing about our mutual friend Madonna…”
7. Develop cure for cancer, 2nd choice be named Time Woman of the Year
8. Secure grand transportation, helicopter or yacht preferred, 2nd choice Ferrari
9. Buy The Greatest Dress Ever Made (note to self: electricity required?) with perfect shoes
10. Learn to dance from John Travolta, 2nd choice Kevin Bacon
As you can see, it will be a busy 6 months for me. Don’t worry, though, I will keep you abreast of my progress. And beginning the day after the reunion, I can then begin the second-guessing, self-flagellating dissection of how I was perceived, if people were appropriately jealous or if they just thought I was desperate, if my stories were witty or trying too hard, and if all the guys who never asked me out were wondering (as well they should) what the hell they were thinking when they overlooked the scrawny chick with braces.