I went to a small private Christian School. There were only about 60 of us total in the High School and they did not do any kind of formal event except for graduation. I had never been to any sort of prom or formal in my life, so when a neighboring Christian school invited our students to a prom, we were all bursting at the seams.
The first thing on a girl's mind when planning for a prom is the dress. I was incredibly excited to daydream about what kind of gorgeous dress I could wear. I had seen them at the mall, but since I had been homeschooled until 9th grade never had any reason to even try one on. I rarely got excited over things, and even rarer did I show it; I was openly excited about this.
My elation soon faded. As soon as I mentioned that I couldn't wait to get a prom dress, my mother told me that I should look at consignment stores first instead of "wasting all that money on a dress you will only wear once." I grew up wearing hand me downs. I almost never got anything new. I had been so excited at the prospect of actually getting something that had only ever been mine. I worked up the nerve later to tell her that I didn't want to look at thrift stores for my prom dress. I really wanted her to go with me to the mall and choose a new one. She told me that she didn't have the money to spend on a new dress. "That's just wasteful. You can get one from a thrift store or not at all." Notice she never said SHE would take me shopping at a thrift store either. Just that my dress had to come from one. I knew what that meant. If it was up to my mother, I would wear some ill fitting hand me down while every other girl at both schools would be wearing a lovely new dress. Suddenly, I was no longer excited about the prom.
A few weeks later, I went shopping with Phillip, his mother and his sister, Rebecca who was also going to the prom. We all started looking at prom dresses and Phillip's mother picked out a few she thought would look nice on me. She looked at my eyes and said, "Green. We need a green dress." And she pulled some off the rack. I was shocked. My mother had never once in my entire life matched anything to my eyes. I wondered if my mother knew what color my eyes were. I tried a few on and we all loved one.
Despite me saying that I shouldn't get a new one because mom didn't want me to, Phillip bought it. It was $80. When I came home with it, Mom was so angry about it. The next day she walked into the office at school where Phillip's mother worked and asked her in.the.office. why he bought it for me. Phillip's mother said that it was his money and he could buy what he wanted with it. Later my mother asked Phillip why he wasted so much money on a dress for me. I was so embarrassed. I was afraid that Phillip would "come to his senses" and realize what a fool he was for wasting $80 on a girl like me. I obviously wasn't worth it. He stood up to my mother so forcefully that I was a little afraid she would have one of her fits. He told her that he wanted to buy it for me; anyone could tell that there was a lot he did not say to her. I felt like I had done something wrong. Hadn't mom said not to get a new dress? And I did. Now she was angry at my boyfriend and his mother. Now that I had brought the wrath of my mother onto them, they would probably hate me too. It was all my fault. Once again, instead of being excited about it I was sad.
Mom continued to fume at me about the dress for weeks. Every other day she had some snide comment about it. "I still can't believe he bought you that dress. What if you guys break up?" I would not say anything back to her. I didn't dare argue. In my head I had plenty of comebacks that I was mulling over, but I kept my mouth shut and tried not to let her see me react or I would be accused of "glaring" at her with "my evil eye." I learned early on it served no purpose to stand up for myself. Mom never lost an argument. She was always right.
The day before Prom night, mom called me into her room and opened her dresser. She took out a lovely green and white wrap that she told me she had worn with a formal dress once. It was beautiful and matched my dress perfectly. I was so surprised because she was being nice to me and sharing something of hers. I actually felt like she liked me and was happy for me. I told her how pretty it was, how nicely it went with my dress, and thanked her. I felt so relieved that she seemed to be over how angry she had been.
On the day of the prom, the junior and senior girls went to get our hair done at a salon then we went back to school to get ready before driving to the prom. My mother was there and I was so excited for her to see how pretty my hair was and how wonderful the wrap went with my dress. I was standing there in my dress, wearing the wrap she gave me, with my hair done in an undo for the first time in my life wanting to know I looked beautiful and she ignored me. Instead she focussed on another girl who's hair was also done up incredibly beautiful, and wearing the exact same style dress that I was. She even pointed it out to me. "Wow doesn't Emily's hair look so gorgeous! Its like a work of art and that color dress just goes so well with her complexion! She's beautiful!"
Mom... do you like my hair? "It looks fine."
She went on about this girl and her hair and her dress until I left. It didn't ruin my night, but it was a smack to the face. I felt ugly. Of course my hair looked terrible if my own mother couldn't bring herself to compliment it. My dress must not have been the right color for my complexion. I felt embarrassed. I considered ditching my glasses for the night, but I couldn't see without them. I guess I thought that maybe they made me look bad. I just didn't know what was wrong with me.
Phillip told me I looked beautiful, but I couldn't believe it. My mother's opinion counted and as a teenager, there was nothing I could do to not want her approval or to not feel crushed when I was not good enough to get it.
I was crowned queen at the prom that night, yet I simply could not shake the feeling of being unhappy. I knew I should be happy. I had a boyfriend. I was crowned prom queen. I had my hair done. I had a beautiful dress. Yet I felt like I did not deserve any of it. I felt less than everyone else. On the outside I smiled. Inside, I was miserable and because I didn't know why, I beat myself up for being ungrateful and selfish, for not appreciating what I had.
It was 11pm when Phillip dropped me off at home after the prom that night. My mother had locked the doors and turned off all the lights. I had to get my brothers to let me into their room and sneak into my room to get ready for bed. Even though we had agreed that I could stay out until 11pm, I was still left feeling like I had done something wrong. My mother was routinely up until 12-1am on her computer. Why had she locked the doors and turned all the lights off when she knew I was coming home? As I took all of the bobby pins out of my hair, I felt sad. What was so wrong with me that my mother wanted nothing to do with me. What had I done? I assumed she was still angry over the dress. She routinely told me that I was so rebellious and ungrateful. Of course she didn't like me. I went to bed and thought about what I did most nights. I recounted every event of the day in my head over and over telling myself what an idiot I was.
If only I had known then what I know now.
The first thing on a girl's mind when planning for a prom is the dress. I was incredibly excited to daydream about what kind of gorgeous dress I could wear. I had seen them at the mall, but since I had been homeschooled until 9th grade never had any reason to even try one on. I rarely got excited over things, and even rarer did I show it; I was openly excited about this.
My elation soon faded. As soon as I mentioned that I couldn't wait to get a prom dress, my mother told me that I should look at consignment stores first instead of "wasting all that money on a dress you will only wear once." I grew up wearing hand me downs. I almost never got anything new. I had been so excited at the prospect of actually getting something that had only ever been mine. I worked up the nerve later to tell her that I didn't want to look at thrift stores for my prom dress. I really wanted her to go with me to the mall and choose a new one. She told me that she didn't have the money to spend on a new dress. "That's just wasteful. You can get one from a thrift store or not at all." Notice she never said SHE would take me shopping at a thrift store either. Just that my dress had to come from one. I knew what that meant. If it was up to my mother, I would wear some ill fitting hand me down while every other girl at both schools would be wearing a lovely new dress. Suddenly, I was no longer excited about the prom.
A few weeks later, I went shopping with Phillip, his mother and his sister, Rebecca who was also going to the prom. We all started looking at prom dresses and Phillip's mother picked out a few she thought would look nice on me. She looked at my eyes and said, "Green. We need a green dress." And she pulled some off the rack. I was shocked. My mother had never once in my entire life matched anything to my eyes. I wondered if my mother knew what color my eyes were. I tried a few on and we all loved one.
Despite me saying that I shouldn't get a new one because mom didn't want me to, Phillip bought it. It was $80. When I came home with it, Mom was so angry about it. The next day she walked into the office at school where Phillip's mother worked and asked her in.the.office. why he bought it for me. Phillip's mother said that it was his money and he could buy what he wanted with it. Later my mother asked Phillip why he wasted so much money on a dress for me. I was so embarrassed. I was afraid that Phillip would "come to his senses" and realize what a fool he was for wasting $80 on a girl like me. I obviously wasn't worth it. He stood up to my mother so forcefully that I was a little afraid she would have one of her fits. He told her that he wanted to buy it for me; anyone could tell that there was a lot he did not say to her. I felt like I had done something wrong. Hadn't mom said not to get a new dress? And I did. Now she was angry at my boyfriend and his mother. Now that I had brought the wrath of my mother onto them, they would probably hate me too. It was all my fault. Once again, instead of being excited about it I was sad.
Mom continued to fume at me about the dress for weeks. Every other day she had some snide comment about it. "I still can't believe he bought you that dress. What if you guys break up?" I would not say anything back to her. I didn't dare argue. In my head I had plenty of comebacks that I was mulling over, but I kept my mouth shut and tried not to let her see me react or I would be accused of "glaring" at her with "my evil eye." I learned early on it served no purpose to stand up for myself. Mom never lost an argument. She was always right.
The day before Prom night, mom called me into her room and opened her dresser. She took out a lovely green and white wrap that she told me she had worn with a formal dress once. It was beautiful and matched my dress perfectly. I was so surprised because she was being nice to me and sharing something of hers. I actually felt like she liked me and was happy for me. I told her how pretty it was, how nicely it went with my dress, and thanked her. I felt so relieved that she seemed to be over how angry she had been.
On the day of the prom, the junior and senior girls went to get our hair done at a salon then we went back to school to get ready before driving to the prom. My mother was there and I was so excited for her to see how pretty my hair was and how wonderful the wrap went with my dress. I was standing there in my dress, wearing the wrap she gave me, with my hair done in an undo for the first time in my life wanting to know I looked beautiful and she ignored me. Instead she focussed on another girl who's hair was also done up incredibly beautiful, and wearing the exact same style dress that I was. She even pointed it out to me. "Wow doesn't Emily's hair look so gorgeous! Its like a work of art and that color dress just goes so well with her complexion! She's beautiful!"
Mom... do you like my hair? "It looks fine."
She went on about this girl and her hair and her dress until I left. It didn't ruin my night, but it was a smack to the face. I felt ugly. Of course my hair looked terrible if my own mother couldn't bring herself to compliment it. My dress must not have been the right color for my complexion. I felt embarrassed. I considered ditching my glasses for the night, but I couldn't see without them. I guess I thought that maybe they made me look bad. I just didn't know what was wrong with me.
Phillip told me I looked beautiful, but I couldn't believe it. My mother's opinion counted and as a teenager, there was nothing I could do to not want her approval or to not feel crushed when I was not good enough to get it.
I was crowned queen at the prom that night, yet I simply could not shake the feeling of being unhappy. I knew I should be happy. I had a boyfriend. I was crowned prom queen. I had my hair done. I had a beautiful dress. Yet I felt like I did not deserve any of it. I felt less than everyone else. On the outside I smiled. Inside, I was miserable and because I didn't know why, I beat myself up for being ungrateful and selfish, for not appreciating what I had.
It was 11pm when Phillip dropped me off at home after the prom that night. My mother had locked the doors and turned off all the lights. I had to get my brothers to let me into their room and sneak into my room to get ready for bed. Even though we had agreed that I could stay out until 11pm, I was still left feeling like I had done something wrong. My mother was routinely up until 12-1am on her computer. Why had she locked the doors and turned all the lights off when she knew I was coming home? As I took all of the bobby pins out of my hair, I felt sad. What was so wrong with me that my mother wanted nothing to do with me. What had I done? I assumed she was still angry over the dress. She routinely told me that I was so rebellious and ungrateful. Of course she didn't like me. I went to bed and thought about what I did most nights. I recounted every event of the day in my head over and over telling myself what an idiot I was.
If only I had known then what I know now.
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