297 dresses

The girls in my graduating class are obsessed—and I mean OBSESSED—with their grad dress choices. There’s a Facebook page set up for all the girls to post their dresses, and I must say everyone who’s uploaded a picture looks extremely beautiful. Stunning and amazing. I think it’s great that everyone’s so supportive of each other, and I’ve said so. But the downside of it all is—for me—selfishly—is that I feel so much worse about myself and my own dress.

I’m going to let you in on a secret: my dress cost waaaaay less than most of the ones posted on the page, and I found it in the sale bin of an L.A. outlet store. My mom told me to go in, pick a dress for grad, and stick to it. I thought I was all right, but…the amounts that everyone else is dropping on their gowns is astounding—upwards of two or three hundred dollars at minimum—and they’re all long and gorgeous and flowy. Mine is short and black and plain, and hearing how much everyone else is spending makes me feel…well…cheap.

I know it shouldn’t matter. And I know I shouldn’t care. It’s not like this is the Price Is Right or anything; nobody’s going to attend the graduation banquet and openly talk money and dresses. But still—I can’t help but let it get to me just the tiniest bit. I guess it all makes me feel almost bad about myself, like the dress is directly related to who I am as a person, and that if my dress costs less than x amount then it is cheap, and I am cheap, and my family is cheap, and I will feel cheap. Which sounds ridiculous, but I assure you it’s the straight dope.

Oh well.

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Victoria

Writes words mostly on the go. Lentils are life.

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