Vintage?

Published January 22, 2013 by Malia

This May marks 10 years since my name got called and I got my high school diploma.  Well, Sunday I got the Facebook invite to my first class reunion.  I’m really torn, because part of me would love to see everyone again, but there’s this other part of me that just doesn’t want to go anywhere near it.  I don’t want to be reminded that I’m about the only one who didn’t get their bachelor’s degree, nor have I got anyone in my life/or kids.  Maybe I’ll just wait for the 20th.  Surely, surely I will have accomplished something by then…

Anyway, one of my friends from high school posted a story on the reunion page about the fact that someone had borrowed her old cheerleading uniform, and brought it back to her at work.  Some young girls apparently saw it and exclaimed, “OMG! Thats so cute…totally vintage!”  Seriously?  Vintage?  I thought that at least 20 years had to go by before we qualified as owning vintage stuff.  Also, I remember what those uniforms looked like, and I really don’t think that there’s been that much advancement in the field of cheerleading uniforms in the last 10 years.  I wonder if those girls actually understand what the word vintage means.

10 years.  It’s nuts.  It certainly doesn’t feel like 10 years.  No, actually it feels more like 30.  I’m so glad I don’t have to go back and relive those 10 years, because while I wouldn’t change the friendships I’ve made, life itself has been kind of a nightmare.  The first time I actually breathed and felt like I was finding the self I knew 10 years ago happened about 3 weeks ago when I started at my new job.  Every day I look in the mirror and see flashes of a face of the girl I used to be.  Older and wiser (?), but more in tune with what she knows, what she wants, and confidence in who she is.  10 years is a long time to spend wondering if you’ll ever be those things again, and trying desperately to find them.

So, I may be vintage, and they may play songs on the oldies radio that were produced after I was born, but I think I’m going to be okay with all of it.

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