VIA: Stockbyte/Thinkstock & iStockphoto/Thinkstock
I'm allergic to taffeta.
If I chaperone, my daughter says she will just die. And I can't have her die.
Gym teacher keeps staring at me. Awkward.
Can't go near a bowl of punch without spiking it. Terrible impulse control.
Proms are the Olympics of hormones, and I need to save my strength for the actual Olympics. To watch them. On TV.
High probability of seeing my daughter getting low.
Under doctors orders, I cannot risk a flashback to my own prom.
I just converted to Amish this morning and they forbid dancing. And formalwear. And proms.
If I want to see immature drunks getting frustrated because they can't get lucky, I'll stay home and watch my husband.