Prom Is The Bomb

It could have gone either way: very very good or horribly, abysmally bad. I’m speaking of finding a Prom dress for Butterfly.

Yesterday I did what my mother never would have done in a thousand years: I let my daughter play hookey so we could shop without the weekend crowds. But Butterfly is getting straight A’s, and it’s her last quarter of high school, and I love being a Cool Mom on occasion. I so really do! I live for it, actually. This is the stuff of which memories are made. And I am all about memory-making.

We headed out to one of the largest malls in Chicagoland. We first stopped for a yummy lunch of stir fry. Then we tackled the dress stores, which had a large array of Prom wear in all shades and variations, some stunningly gorgeous, and others frightfully hideous. It was my job to carry. Carry dresses to the changing room. And comment only when my opinion was asked for. And refrain from saying anything that would make Butterfly feel less than super-model perfect. Mothers of teenage daughters know well of what I speak. One time I made the mistake of suggesting (just suggesting, dear Lord) that perhaps a size 5 wouldn’t be quite as tight, and you’d think I ‘d signed her up to audition for The Biggest Loser.

I have to give Butterfly credit. She’s a woman who knows what she wants. She came with a picture she’d downloaded of a Jessica McClintock dress she coveted. And that’s the exact dress she ended up with, after she’d exhausted all the other potential options. It looked great on her.

And then she needed a garter. And proper undergarments. And a hair clip. And we discussed jewelry, and handbags....... I might need to sell a kidney when the bills come in. Honestly. Girls are not cheap. But she’s my only daughter....and this is her last prom.....(Wasn’t it just yesterday that she was flushing her shoe down the toilet? Where did those years go??)