A Sixth Year Study
Created | Updated Jun 22, 2003
Disco Fever
Wednesday is the first disco of our sixth year. This is a frightening fact.
It's not that I'm cursed with some bizarre phobia of bright lights and happy people (although I break into a cold sweat at the thought of Steps being played at ear-shattering volume). The problem is that I haven't been to a school disco in a year, which is a long time, when you consider that I've gone from 4th to 6th year during it.
After all, going to a disco is petrifying enough. I've been known to spend days panicking because of them. This isn't necessarily my fault... it's because there are stages of panic leading up to the big night. First, you have the basic dilemma of whether you're going or not. This one isn't really so bad, as it's usually decided for you by a group of friends (who don't necessarily enjoy rugby-tackling you, but understand that it has to be done). Next, and far more terrifying, is the clothes issue. Of course, being the intelligent creature that I am, my first disco back is a 60s and 70s themed one. So, along with saving enough money, finding clothes that fit, and desperately trying not to look like a reject from the 'Austin Powers' set, I've got to be in costume too. At this point, I'm just wondering whether I should get out while I'm ahead, and flog my ticket at an inflated price!
But once that's all out of the way, an even bigger horror awaits. It creeps up on you over the week leading up to the dance. The day before, it invades every sane thought you try to have (and let's face it, I'm a teenager... sane thoughts are precious). Memories of the last time surface, and all you can think (from your foetal position on the floor, naturally) is: 'What am I, crazy?' School disco + costume = severe and public humiliation! And suddenly those friends are at it again... dragging you out of your PJs and into your outfit, while you lie through your teeth! It's not that I'm scared of the disco. I just don't want to miss; quick glance at the Radio Times... 'When Hamsters Turn Evil 3'!
Throughout all this, I know that I'll go. I know that I'll be shamed by the fact that I still remember the moves to 'Tragedy'. I know that I'll spend the entire evening watching the clock (except for that half hour where I actually enjoy myself), wishing they would play some decent music, hoping that someone will dance with me and shrugging it off when they don't. But I also remember that there are good things to look forward to. I get to spend an evening, perhaps even having fun, with my friends. I won't be the worst looking girl there. I won't be the best looking either... but I at least fall somewhere in between the girls who look fantastic whatever they do, and the ones who have accepted their role of looking horrible so the rest of us feel ok about ourselves. I will get to laugh, and shout, complain about how sore my feet are and bitch about the couple who snuck out the side an hour ago and just came back in with her hair out of place and his t-shirt back to front. So really, there's just one problem left... how to keep myself from going insane while the strains of 'Let's Do the Timewarp Again' go round... and round... and round in my head... for the next week!
