Manolo says, here is the Manolo’s latest column for the Express of the Washington Post.
My fifteenth high school reunion is only five weeks away, which gives me just enough time to totally make myself over. Or, maybe not. I’m thinking that instead of doing all that work, I should just get some really great shoes. Please advise.
Manolo says, ayyyy! The Manolo likes the way you are thinking. Obviously, you are the long time reader of the Manolo.
Normally, the most common thing to do when the Day of Labor arrives, and the high school reunion season approaches, is to start the lemon-water-cabbage-soup-watermelon starvation diet. Followed closely by calls to the beautician, the aesthetician, the dietician, and the botox doctor.
One needs to do these things so as to overcome the trauma of the high school by showing up of the mean cheerleader girls who dated the quarterbacks and ruled the lunchroom from their Mordor-like table in the center.
But, unless you have magically become Cindy Crawford in the years intervening since graduation, this sort of thing rarely works. You are still you, and they are still them, just older, perhaps wiser, and maybe more centered and contented, and the world spins on, your high school days ever receding into the distant past.
Better, says the Manolo, to fix yourself up within reason, put on the beautiful shoes and enjoy the evening. You will be surprised and delighted by what has happed to many of your classmates.
Look! Stunningly beautiful shoes! The Lancer crystal-embellished suede sandals from Jimmy Choo!