Had this dress been around in 1987, I might have tried harder to get a Prom Date. Because I would love to have a picture of me with Madonna-hair in a Vagina Dress.
Sadly, I wasn't asked to the prom. Most girls my age would have stayed at home on prom night watching 'Who's The Boss', while drowning their sorrows with a gallon of Dryers. Not me. Nothing was going to stop me from partaking in the festivities. I put on my Mom's Purple and white checkered Liz Claiborne dress (with matching thin vinyl belt), liberally applied purple eye shadow and hightailed it down to the hotel to check out the action. I had the wherewithal to know that I needed to be stealth, I wasn't about to be seen looming around dateless. I parked my car far away and snuck into the hotel through a side door, took the elevator to the third floor and like a soldier in a foxhole made my camp near a balcony overlooking the lobby. From there I had a bird's eye view of all my classmates entering into the lobby on their way into the ballroom. Even back then, I can remember critiquing other people (in an obvious effort to make myself feel better), silently making fun of their dress, hair, makeup etc..... Honestly if I'd had a bucket of cow blood, there's a 90% chance I might have dumped it on someones head.
For once in my high school career, I did not have Parker as my partner in crime. Senior year, Parker went and found herself a boyfriend. A Hispanic Football Player named David who had the body of Adonis but couldn't put more then three words together let alone form a sentence. Parker's family nicknamed him "Huh" because he always responded with a caveman like grunt. Like the annoying younger sister, I used to go on their dates with them and jump up from the backseat and say "So, whatta we gonna do now?"
While Parker and "Huh" danced to "The Lady in Red" I made my way to the Ramada Inn (off the I-10 freeway, in South Tucson) and checked into a room with a bottle of Strawberry Hill along with a few other dateless lonely hearts and drank myself into a tizzy. After the prom the rest of the class showed up to the Ramada Inn, where I'm sure many virginities (but not mine) were lost. I managed to have a great time despite not having a date. And somewhere out there is a picture of reveling Prom Dates in a shitty hotel room, and if you look very closely in the background you can catch a glimpse of my mom's Liz Clairborne dress sprawled out on the bed, while I slept like a baby clutching an empty bottle of Strawberry Hill.