There’s something about Ginny

Well, you’ve earned it.

First, a little back story!

Oh, I was just in love with this boy, but I never really admitted it until I was 37-years-old … so, you know, TODAY. He was my first crush after I finally got over my YEARS long crush on the pastor’s son. Remember him?

As my sister Tina Fey said, “It looks like you glued a Webkinz to your head.” Hey, if all the teenagers today start gluing Webkinzs to their heads, I get credit for that!

My junior prom date went to my church, too; he was a year older than me, and our families were friends; we went to all kinds of church events together, and he was the funniest guy I knew. We could spend hours sitting in the bleachers at a basketball game just laughing so hard we’d almost puke our spleens up.

I have so many distinct memories of him when I was 16 and 17.  The time at my parents house he picked me up, flung me over his shoulder and twirled me around for no reason.

I think that’s when I became a hopeless romantic. Talk about a soaring heart.

Nothing ever happened with him because he only ever saw me as a friend and at that age, I wouldn’t have even known what to do with a boy who liked me back. I was THAT MUCH OF A PILGRIM, YOU GUYS.

Probably, at 16-years-old, if a boy that I liked admitted he liked me back, I would have thoughtfully stroked my mustache all, “Hmm. Is that so?”

So when I was a junior in high school, I asked this boy to go to my prom with me, as he went to a different high school than I did. I still remember the phone call on that special phone my parents kept in the basement bedroom. The one with the button I could hold down so the voice of the person on the other end would be amplified for me to hear. He said yes and I laid on the bed for a while, but in my head I was frolicking in the clouds of Allegheny Ecstasy.

Okay, THAT’S when I became a hopeless romantic.

This was taken on the Majestic of the Gateway Clipper Fleet. Norwin prom of 1991.  The theme is obviously Phantom of the Opera.

But the theme of my hair is “There’s Something About Mary.”

Let’s take it from the top. The hair. Seeing as at this point in my life, I didn’t even really know what sperm was or that it had sticky properties, you can safely bet that the reason my hair is standing up like that is BECAUSE I FIXED IT LIKE THAT.

I took my curling iron, curled those bangs up, sprayed them like that and said, “Girl. You too sexy for your mall bangs.”

Moving down. Make up? I’m wearing some. Believe it or not. Let’s contrast that with today’s girls at their proms:


I’M KIDDING! Sheesh. But yeah, WHORE.

Still kidding!

Back to me though! Glasses? Check. Sexy? Check!

Now, you’re asking, “Why are you looking up like so? Is it because you’re imagining Allegheny Ecstacy with this boy?”

No. The reason is because the jerk photographer said, “There’s a glare in your glasses. You need to look up. Up. Up. Up up up. Over. Up. THERE!” And then he snapped the picture so the glare was DIRECTLY IN MY EYEBALLS. Jagoff. Meanwhile, look at my date. He’s wearing glasses too and you can’t even tell he has LENSES IN THEM.

One thing I finally got right though was that the dress isn’t the worst taffetastic abomination you’ve ever laid your eyes on. It’s decent. It’s strapless, so as to show off my hairy arms. SILKY SMOOTH! The reason this dress doesn’t suck is because I borrowed it from my sister Tina Fey who had much better fashion sense than I did. You’ll find no pictures of her looking so virginally ridiculous that Laura Ingalls Wilder would be all, “OMG. OPEN UP A BUTTON OR SOMETHING, PRUDE!”

Granny pantyhose? Check!

Shoes that if I put a buckle on them, a pilgrim could wear them? CHECK!

And then look at my date. Gorgeous. Perfect. You can take him out of this picture and plonk him into a prom picture in the 50s, 60s, 70s, 80s or 90s and he would look like he fit in. Timeless. He can look at this picture and go, “Man. I really had it goin’ on back then!”

Whereas I look at this picture and go, “Nice earrings, dork. Was Hills having a sale that week?”

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