 However, some reunions are unplanned. On a random street corner or a
coffee shop, you might see someone you knew 20 years ago. It is
almost certain that these unplanned reunions will happen the day
before your scheduled hair coloring. Your partial is probably in the
shop for repair, and you decided to wear a big floppy sweatshirt to
cover your big floppy chest because you had acid reflux that morning
and a bra would've simply exacerbated the condition.
Of course,
you could always look at the bright side and realize that you just
made someone you haven't seen in 20 years feel pretty darn good
about herself. After all, she had just been to the salon and had a
facial, a mani-pedi, and her eyebrows waxed as a reward for losing
10 pounds. Sure, she probably lost it after a nasty bout of stomach
flu, but the method wasn't the important thing. The result justified
the reward. The point is, you made her feel like a million bucks
because you looked like a limp dishrag.
Your appearance in public, looking like a bag lady, could be seen
as a charitable act, if you weren't so mortified by the chance
meeting. Your halo could probably use some buffing up and, in my
opinion, this would be considered a good deed even if it was
unplanned.
Even some reunions that are planned have some unexpected
consequences. My husband's 30th high school reunion was last year.
He couldn't attend, but he found a website that posted pictures of
his former classmates who were able to attend.
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 The first thing he said to me while viewing the pictures was:
"Who are these people? The men are all short, fat, bald guys. They
all look like my old history teacher. And... good lord... look at
the women..."
"If you love me even a little," I said tartly, "You will not tell
me what the women my age look like."
Unfortunately, I did peek at the monitor and, truthfully, they
all looked like 30 miles of bad road, caked in makeup and squeezed
into a dress a size too small for them. I saw myself through their
eyes and wondered if my husband would soon trade in my
40-something-year-old carcass for two 20s.
Family reunions are even more painful. These are people you have
known for years. They are like comfort food. When you feel bad, you
know you can count on your family to be there to tell you what an
idiot you are to feel so bad. You know them and all their foibles.
You sadly recognize the ones who won't be with us much longer, and
you also identify the ones you'll most likely be playing bridge with
in an old folks home one day, comforted by their presence.
Life is like playing dodge ball in gym class. Remember that great
and awful feeling you got when you realized that you were the only
target left? You were ecstatic that you didn't get hit, but it was
awful that so many of your teammates did.
[By LAURA SNYDER]
Laura Snyder is a nationally syndicated columnist,
author and speaker. You can reach her at
lsnyder@lauraonlife.com
or visit www.lauraonlife.com
for more info. |
