This weekend, amidst other horrors, is my five-year college reunion. Luckily, I am employed by the alumnae association at my fair alma mater, so I get to work most of it, thereby avoiding great masses of people I had previously hoped to never see again. As is the great tradition along the lovely shores of Lake Waban, the reuning alumnae parade by class on Sunday morning -- which, despite how it sounds, is actually kind of fun. Especially when you watch women from the classes of 1923 and 1928 going past you. The decidly un-fun aspect of the parade is this: We wear all white. And, as any woman will tell you, white is the most dreaded shade in the spectrum.
I hauled ass last night to the mall (nothing like waiting until the last minute to make you desperate enough to actually buy the hideous outfit), and plowed through seemingly endless miles of white pants and capris. It was all that I feared and worse. A little tip for those planning similar endeavors: Don't wear black panties.
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