Saturday, November 7, 2009

The Reality of a Ball for a Clumsy Girl

After reading Jane Austen novels and learning about the debutante balls of old, I felt a little disappointed when returning to my mundane party-less life. I've wondered how much more exciting my life would have been if I could just float from one party to the next with proper etiquette and grace.

I had my taste of that life when I attended a fund raising banquet that was held for my grandmother's pregnancy resource center. I looked forward to this dinner for days, wondering how I was going to dress or wear my hair. On the night of the dinner, I finally pulled together a classic black outfit and, as it was a special occasion, wore make-up. My sister wore a pink dress. It looked like it had been made just for her and her bubbling personality. Even my grandfather dressed up.

When my grandfather, sister, and I drove to the venue and walked towards the front entrance with other arriving couples, I first got the thrill of how fabulous this all was. I held my head high and smiled graciously at everyone I glanced at. There was a slight moment of awkwardness when I walked into the main dining area. There were many tables and I could not find my place at first, but then I saw my grandmother, and that bothersome wrinkle in my plans was smoothed out.

I sat tall with my hands folded in my lap, and then realized that everyone else was eating the salad in front of them, so I began eating too. Everything was going well until the main course came out...then everything began to unravel! I began eating my chicken like a civilized person, while talking to my neighbor between bites. I felt pretty pleased with how affable I was being. Maybe I could do this whole posh socializing thing after all. However, after a few bites I realized I had been eating with my salad fork this whole time! Egad! So much for being the perfect socialite! I discreetly placed my salad fork down and started eating with the bigger fork. Oh, why hadn't I watched Titanic more closely and remembered the advice about multiple silverware!

When I had finished dying of embarrassment, I was able to listen my grandmother deliver her speech about how much the Pregnancy Resource Center had improved over the past year. I was excited for my grandmother; this was a big night for her as the director of the Center. As she was nearing the middle of her speech, I had finished eating the delicious chocolate cake and the folds of icing topping it. Scraping the last delicious bits off of the plate, I sat back (while still very refined and polished) and sighed inwardly, so happy to be me. Then I moved my right arm and caught a glimpse of something unexpected there. Chocolate icing smeared from the middle of my forearm all the way to my wrist. This epidemic had also spread to the front of my black top. The horror! I couldn't believe my bad luck. In the back of my mind, I remembered leaning over my piece of cake to reach a sugar packet for my iced tea. That was probably when it happened. I knew that sugar could rot your teeth, but had no idea about its party-ruining qualities!

I rubbed my arm subtly with my thumb to get the chocolate off. Thankfully, most of it came off quickly. My top had many folds and could cover up the chocolate stains, so that too, was saved. The rest of the night went by without any more exceptionally inelegant mistakes on my part, and was very enjoyable. A woman spoke about the reasons she had for having an abortion, and how she chose instead to keep her daughter. She sang an absolutely beautiful and powerful rendition of "Jesus, Lover of My Soul". I was deeply moved and forgot about my chocolate stains and thought about all the young ladies who have to make tough decisions like this all the time. And then, just like that, the night was over. After chatting for a few minutes, we all went home. The night had been a success.

When I arrived home, I felt emotionally drained. Social events might have been fun for a lot of people at first, but after a while, it must have gotten tiring. I had not been involved in the hosting, or inviting, and had been a very little-known person at this dinner. Imagine how tired I would have been had I been the hostess! I think I prefer the fantasy I had in my head before reality set in...

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