Primped and polished, partially panicked

Today is the day my reunion begins. In three more days, I will be finished with this event. Meanwhile, I am packed, (do I have the right clothes?), primped (two trips to dermatologist, one haircut), polished (manicure, pedicure, recent dental visit) prematurely pampered (one deep-tissue and one Swedish massage, plus reflexology), and yet, panicked.

This is a far cry from my my basic fluff-and-fold attitude toward my looks. Then again, I'm trying to focus other people's attention on what hasn't changed, in lieu of, say, the 20 pounds I've gained, or the smile/frown lines (as they are politely called) etched into my face. I will encounter people I've seen in the past year, and people I haven't seen or spoken to in the past 25 years.

I am one of the three alumna who is running this show. Most of the preparation is out of my hands now, but the curtain has yet to rise. The next 72 hours is the payoff -- already I can see errors I've not corrected in the reunion book (once printed, further proofreading is beside the point, not that that stopped me), so it's not so perfect as I would have preferred -- but whether everyone has a good time remains unknown.

I don't know what will be expected of me on-site. I'm hoping it won't be much. Next time someone asks me to help plan a weekend for 150 people, I know what my answer will be. Perhaps if I weren't attending, I wouldn't feel so anxious: logistics without presence would have taken a lot of pressure off of me. Or vice versa. Anti-anxiety meds, here I come.

I do know that the next time I sign up for volunteer work, it will be for a three-hour slot, not a year-long, 100-plus hours time frame (including the two solid months it took to produce the reunion book).

However, we only have one 25th reunion, off the isle of Wonderland, and, ready or not, here I come.