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Prom Night

Our girls had their "prom without boys" tonight. On the way to this social event of the season, P and I on our rickshaw got smacked by a CNG. Ouch! The impact made me drop my purse and I immediately dove after it. P hopped out and then fell. Ha! Ha! No one was hurt, although there was much shouting -- from the drivers, not us, as we'd scooted off to safety by that time. Note to self: never ride a rickshaw after dark.

We got there and it was, indeed, just like prom, with pictorials going on everywhere and squealing girls scattering and reforming into groups for more picture-taking and mutual admiration. Some of the girls went all out and had tailors make their evening wear. There was much makeup in evidence, and so much face and body glitter that my skin absorbed some just by walking through the venue. I think my lungs are glittering right now, actually. Anyway, all this posing and giggling made me realize that prom really is an estrogenic activity -- the testosterone carriers are mainly there as accessories, as awkward drab penguins setting off the gleaming butterflies.

A program had been prepared: a "small dance," followed by a fashion show, and the grand finale: Miss Access Academy. (Little do they know that I am Miss AA. As in Miss Astoundingly Alcoholic.) The dance, naturally, was interrupted by a power outage, but, encouraged by their teachers, some girls got together and kept bopping and whooping. Soon came the fashion show, and when I get the videos up on YouTube (after I return to the US, because the bandwidth here is tiny), I will totally get another exquisite Best Video Award from Miz Tamanna at the office. (I should really post a picture of my first award here, as otherwise the world will never see such creative use of post-it, paper clip, binder clip, and a lollipop.)

The cuteness factor in there was ridiculous. The sides of the room were practically melting into a sweet bubbling goo of adorableness. It was FUN. The girls got to show each other their legs! And arms! And boobs! And cleavage! You know, the stuff you see on the streets everyday in the summertime in other places. One girl was utterly stunning in a custom purple silk off-shoulder gown, and her little friend (pictured here), was asking me how I felt about seeing all that skin. *snicker*

Back to the fashion show: it was clear the girls had rehearsed, and a number of them were gracefully swaying and sashaying and pouting in their shiny traditional costumes or tailored outfits. There was CHOREOGRAPHY. And then came the the goofiest group EVER (I was later told they were Cambodians), who were just beaming and bumping into each other all over the place and having the best time.

Any woman can get on a runway and feel like a supermodel, and it's even better when it's your friends down there cheering you on. Being heartless and evil, I will never be a teacher (but a lawyer, perhaps?), but I think it's moments like these, when you see your girls so happy and bright and brimming with future, that make all the other shit worthwhile.

Maybe. I wouldn't know. I was just a little sad toward the end, when it struck me that these girls are allowed to be kids right now, but that will change when they grow older and life will crush their spirit. Maybe that's why so many people are overgrown adolescents these days. Growing up sucks.

Ah! Such drama! I actually blogged about my feelings! GROSS!!! Sing with me now: pee-lings, nothing more than pee-lings...

All in all: "prom without boys" rocked. As one of the emcees said, "Without boys, we can do everything!" Preach it girlfriend.

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