My ten-year high school reunion was this past weekend. I was not invited.
Possible explanations for the lack of invitation:
- Clerical oversight.
- The planning committee couldn’t locate my contact info. (I find this EXTREMELY unlikely. I have a presence on the major social networking websites expressly for the purpose of being findable. Also, a google search for my name pulls up this website in short order.)
- The planning committee found this website, but concluded that this was the wrong Jessica Zellers, because the person in the photographs was too physically stunning to be the homely dweeb-girl they remembered from high school.
- The planning committee deliberately chose to exclude the homely dweeb-girl from high school. Most likely everyone in the North Buncombe High School class of 99 got together this weekend to talk about how pleasant it was not to have me around.
My money’s on choice number 4.
A former classmate contacted me a few weeks back to ask if I were going. By the time this info came to my attention, it was far too late to readjust my work schedule to get back home. It’s a shame. I think I might have enjoyed it. I would have had at least a few boasting rights, including:
- Having a relatively enviable life, replete with a graduate degree, financial independence, three precious kitties, and a boyfriend (which is not on boasting par with having a spouse, but you need to understand that the boyfriend spent five years in prison, so anyone who wants to criticize me will have to argue it with him. This is not advisable.)
- Not looking homely anymore. (Anyone who disagrees can please bring the dispute to the attention of the ex-con boyfriend.)
- Having a critically acclaimed book to my name. (Technically the book is not quite published yet, it’ll be another few days, and also technically it is not critically acclaimed, but I imagine that someone somewhere will say something nice about it, or risk the wrath of the former inmate.)
Per the editorial policy of thelesbrarian.com, I will not be here divulging any details about my romantic life. All you need to know is that I am dating an ex-con. Besides, if I gave away additional information about him, it would start to make him seem like a well-rounded individual with worthwhile qualities. It is more sensational this way, and leaves more to the imagination.
Aside from colluding with the dark side things around here have been very quiet. I’ve finally finished off all my outstanding writing projects. (Please interpret the word “outstanding” in at least two ways, thanks.) This would be cause for celebration, except that I have another article coming due in a couple of weeks, which rather dampens the joy of my purported freedom. Probably tomorrow I should knock that out; anyone know any good read-alike authors for Barbara Ehrenreich?
Also tomorrow I am going to go to a yoga class. With a few exceptions, I haven’t really taken classes in about a year, so by this time tomorrow night I expect I will be desperately sore throughout my entire body, a painful condition for which I will pay a lot of money to achieve.
More from me later, once I finish bluffing my way through the Barbara Ehrenreich piece and after I’ve recovered sufficiently from yoga to be able to sit upright unassisted.