I have a date next Wednesday. Yes, an actual date with an actual human being. I'm kind of freaking out about it. Actually, I'm a whole lot freaking out about it, but I'm keeping the panic reigned in.
I got into contact with my old friend Mike about a year or two ago on Facebook. I deleted my account about a month ago, so we've kept in touch through text messages. I've known Mike since we were freshman at Harker Heights high school and were in the same JROTC class and both in the PT/OT team. After I moved and transferred to Shoemaker, I saw him once in a blue moon. We'd bump into each other during JROTC meets until I dropped out my sophomore year, and then at random school events until about the end of junior year or so. Technically, I haven't physically seen him for a little over 10 years now. We both went our separate ways; he joined the Marines and retired about 4 years ago, and of course I got married and had ten million babies.
I'm trying to remember not to panic. Physically, the only thing that has changed on Mike is that he got buff since joining the Marines. He now works in construction so he's still in shape. I, however, did not stay in shape after my breakdown. Sure, I'm no longer 185lbs like I was two months ago, but I'm still 169, which is still much larger than I should be. The last time he saw me, I still had a waif-like appearance. I, personally, hate my new zaftig figure; he doesn't seem to care and sounds amused about the extra padding.
Come next week, I'm sure I'll lose my shit. I'll be fussing about my hair, trying to get it straight in a way that doesn't look like I fried it to death, picking out an outfit that is flattering and doesn't make me look like a busted can of biscuit dough, and making sure that my make-up is nice, but still looks natural. I don't want to end up looking like a panda by the end of the night. Which reminds me, I should not wear only black and white when out and about. The last thing my self-esteem needs is some kid pointing out the small panda having dinner with the nice man.
OK. I'm almost at full panic now and the event is still a week away. Seriously, Vonnie, calm your panties. *facepalm* I was with J for 11 years. I have no idea what I'm doing.