Graduated

Our entire graduating class. Ten years ago.

One of the girls from our Oxy clique (termed the B-Y girls, as we all met Freshman year in our incestuous [it was co-ed] dorm, Bell-Young) emailed the rest of us with a subject line of:

Holy heck.

'Twas that day a WHOLE DAMN DECADE AGO that we donned black gowns and homemade stoles and graduated from college.

Awwww.

Which means we've all known each other for 14 years now, which is a good long time, and holy heck, we ain't getting any younger.

Ten years ago, each of us faced big changes and, if I dare say so, eventually landed in good spots.

B-Y girl #1: The one with the smallest filter on her mouth and deemed most likely to end up in jail now works in corrections. She married her high school sweetheart (THANK GOD, because he's the only dude we ever approved of), landed a great job, and spent the better part of this week covered in baby puke.

B-Y girl #2, the one most likely to skip from Point A to Point B and is THE flirtiest person I have ever met IN MY LIFE (and I so love her), ended up going super corporate. Great job and a full, fun life. This girl, who moaned and groaned in her I Love Lucy pajamas about writing that final paper, turning it in approximately 11 seconds before the drop-dead deadline, who slept until 11:00 a.m. . . . . yeah, she now works a bazillion hours per week--joyfully!

B-Y girl #3 was the girl voted most likely to succeed, which she immediately did by getting into Northwestern's chemistry PhD program, graduating, and getting picked up by a major consulting firm. She's also the most likely to be in London, Singapore, Paris, or New York at any given time.

B-Y girl #4 got a law degree and has super DUPER exciting projects in the works that I'm prohibited from blogging (or, um, talking) about. For reals. I swore over a pale green cocktail. Anyhoo, she'll be famous quite soon, and I've been promised that I'll be invited to any event that justifies a new dress and a reason to fly to L.A. I'm hoping that by publicly blogging about her promise, she'll HAVE to follow through on the invite.

B-Y girl #5 is me, and I suppose I obtained a master's degree, created two people, and have a job. Oh, and I married the high school friend of B-Y girl #1, who gets the credit for our eventual marriage.

A decade ago, we had no clue what was in store. All of us were forced to move forward despite fears and anxieties and unknowns.

B-Y girl #1 had to pursue a path different than what she intended; B-Y girl #2 had to get a grown-up job; B-Y girl #3 had to attend graduate school in the Midwest--someplace she knew hated; B-Y girl #4 traveled many different paths and finally listened to her own voice and is really blossoming; B-Y girl #5 was heading to the East Coast where she knew NO ONE, her relationship with a certain Mr. Hofmann was a little iffy, and she was still feeling the sting of rejection from PhD programs.

Anyway, there's so, so, SO much more to these fabulous women than I can write in a sappy retrospective post, and lots more they'd shoot me for if I actually wrote it (heh heh), so trust me when I say that these are some of the most unpredictable, intelligent, BALLSY, sassy, perceptive, and loyal thirty-somethings out there.

And sure, a decade has passed and we're all feeling a bit surprised. I think we still feel as bright-eyed and young as we did ten years ago. In other words, we perhaps don't FEEL our age. But maturity is overrated if it makes you boring and cynical and all now-I-know-all-the-answers-y. And just because you're "settled" (whatever THAT means), it doesn't mean the whole wide world isn't STILL your oyster. Nope, we've just had ten more years to stumble, fall, get up, and effing LEARN.

Aging totally has its perks.

Chris and me. I had graduation-cap hair--good lord.