Photo slideshows of spring break in the 80s have been popping up all over the Internet lately. You can Google those words and take your pick. Many of the photos are the same. This one of Foxy at Ft. Lauderdale in 1980 is my favorite.
You sure are foxy, Foxy. You are the quintessential party girl, gorgeous and unattainable. You were dancing around the first paleolithic campfire and will always be with us. You remind the rest of us watching how far down we will have to compromise and will never experience the adulation you take for granted. But that was 34 years ago, and by now you know that foxiness is only a brief stage of life. No one stays foxy for long. Foxy girls get pregnant—quickly and often—and then they aren’t so foxy anymore. They also tend to make poor life choices to keep the fading excitement alive. We envied you then, but not now.
Save this photo. Your grandchildren will be amazed that was once you, that you were ever foxy.
In the 1980 photo, you are clearly eager to start the reproductive process and probably wish now you had waited a little longer. Who is the guy with you? Did he become the father of your children, or was he just a brief dance partner who you don’t even remember?
I really hope you have done well since then, better than I fear. We all believe beautiful people are divinely anointed and deserve special treatment, despite the contrary evidence. I hope you came to appreciate the nerds of the world and married a caring, ambitious guy who did not go to Ft. Lauderdale, who hung out at the university lab over spring break, a guy you took a chance on, became proud of, who made you happier than ever, who never thought of you as his trophy, and never called you “foxy.”
In fact, you look like a younger version of Bill Gates’s wife. Are you really her? I hope so, Foxy (or Melinda, as you now prefer).