Prom

PROM

Just that word sends teenage girls into fits of hysterical screaming about dress sizes and diets and dates and deciding colour schemes and themes and marquee sizes... well, I have spent one week in that world and I want to get an immediate one way ticket out!

And for some idiotic reason I'm on the prom committee. Yes, that's right, the committee that organises the whole event which causes this madness and turns perfectly sensible, intelligent teenagers into high-pitched, squeeling girls, that make Amanda Seyfried in 'Mean Girls' look like a noble prize winner.

Ok, that's a bit harsh. I mean, I love prom as much as the next girl, up to a point. It's just the hysteria that comes with it that pushes everyone over the edge. At the end of the day, it's just one night. Yes, its meant to be a 'coming of age' thing but ignoring all the emphasis and extravaganza placed on it by American films and tv shows, it is just a party.

So why must I spend my weekend trying to work out how at £30 per girl and £20 per guy (I go to an all girls school, btw, before you say that it is incredible sexist pricing) we are going to afford a marquee with dance floor, bar, seating areas and tables, a bouncer, a photographer, drinks, invites and tickets (printed professionally), a Dj, and decorations?

I understand the point of prom, but why it has to become such an insane event is unexplainable in my eyes. If anyone can clue me in, I'd really appreciate it... preferably before I lock the head of the committee in a cupboard for telling me one more time that we really need a photo booth/ candles/ tea lights/ Persian rugs/ a Morrocan theme....