WHEN DID MY HIGH SCHOOL REUNION BECOME AN OLYMPIC EVENT?
Let's be honest. Your high school reunion isn't really a reunion. It's an Olympic event.
Nobody says it out loud, but everybody knows what's happening. Who looks good? Who looks terrible? Who got fat? Who got really fat? Who somehow looks EXACTLY THE SAME? Who married a doctor? Who became a doctor? Who is pretending to be a doctor on Facebook? And most importantly: WHO ABSOLUTELY KILLED IT?
Welcome back to high school. Except now everybody has mortgages, ex-spouses, bad knees and a suspicious amount of opinions about cholesterol.
FIRST: YOU HAVE TO PASS THE MIRROR TEST
About six months before the reunion, you suddenly become very interested in your appearance. You look in the mirror. "Huh." Then you turn sideways. "Oh, hell no." Then you suck your stomach in. "Okay. There's something here but I’m having trouble breathing."
Then you take a picture. Delete. Take another. Delete. Take one from farther away. Still delete. Play with the filters. “Now I look ridiculous!”
Eventually you realize the problem isn't the camera. It's the last 25 years.
This is when people start doing crazy things. Extreme diets. Two-a-day workouts. Cold plunges. Intermittent fasting. Juice cleanses. Pill cleanses. CrossFit. And that thing where you hang upside down from a rope while an influencer screams about your vagus nerve.
Calm down. You're going to a hotel ballroom in Des Moines. You're not auditioning for the latest superhero movie. And. Most importantly: YOU DON'T NEED TO LOOK 18
Don't try to look like your senior-year yearbook picture. That ship has long sailed. And frankly, thank God. You were wearing painter’s paints in High School. You had a haircut your mother approved. Your eyebrows were doing things nobody can explain. You had braces. You had pimples.
Let's leave that person in the past. The goal isn't to look 18. The goal is to walk in looking like you've aged well. You want: "Wow. You look fantastic!" Not: "Wow. You look exactly like your kid."
THEN THERE'S THE OLD HIGH SCHOOL RIVAL
You know the person. Everybody does. He was the quarterback. He drove the nicest car. He dated the hottest girl. He had a letterman's jacket. She was Miss Popular. Everybody wanted to date her. She wore the cutest clothes. She had tons of friends.
And somewhere deep inside you, there is still a 17-year-old thinking: “I STILL HATE THIS JACKASS!”
So you walk into the reunion. And there the rival is. You look at them. They look at you. You both fake smile. And in both your heads you’re checking each other out from head to toe. “Oh look, he’s balding.” “Is that gray hair on her head?” “Holy hell, did he end up working or Duff’s Brewery?” “She’s divorced? Twice?!”
Well congratulations! You’re winning!! And . . . you’re 48 years old. You’re too old to be acting like this.
FACEBOOK HAS ALREADY DONE HALF THE DAMAGE
The other problem is that you've already stalked everybody online. You already know who's divorced, who's remarried, who moved to Florida, who sells real estate, who joined a pickleball league, who suddenly became obsessed with motorcycles or corvettes, who posts inspirational quotes every morning, who’s a Republican, who’s a Democrat, who’s outraged about transgenderism, who’s just generally outraged, etc.
And you know that the person who used to cheat off your chemistry test now has three million dollars in cryptocurrency and is willing to show others how to do it.
You hate the same people all over again. You just have more reasons to hate them.
Then you see someone you haven't talked to in 30 years. They say: "Oh my gosh! I haven't seen you forever!" And you're thinking: "Actually, I saw way too much of you in your vacation photos from Cabo last March."
But you can't actually say that. Because apparently that's creepy.
HERE'S HOW YOU REALLY WIN
You don't need the biggest house. You don't need the coolest car. You don't need to tell everybody how much money you make. And for God's sake, don't pass out your business cards. Nothing says "I haven't emotionally left high school" like handing someone a business card between the cheese cubes and the mini meatballs.
Winning is much easier than that. You win by walking in looking healthy. Feeling good. Having energy. Laughing. Being comfortable in your own skin. And not needing everybody in the room who you physically interact with maybe once every 5 years to know you've "really made it."
Because here's the beautiful part: You're not 18 anymore. You're not trying to become popular. You're not trying to impress the quarterback. You're not trying to impress the prom queen. You’re not trying to be the prom queen. You're not trying to prove anything to the kid who told you your hair looked stupid. You’re not trying to prove anything to anyone in that room.
You're just there. And you've figured out something your 18-year-old self didn't know: Being healthy is a hell of a lot more impressive than thinking you’re still cool.
SO START EARLY
Don't wait until three weeks before the reunion. Don't wake up one morning and decide you're going to survive on celery, rage and regret. Start making better choices now.
Move your body. Get stronger. Get outside. Get some sleep. And eat food that actually makes you feel good.
That's where Simple Plan comes in.
No starvation. No punishment. No eating six ounces of dry chicken while staring sadly out a window.
Just real, fresh, nutritious food that makes eating better easier. Because you don't need a military-grade fitness regimen to look great at your reunion. You need something much harder: A lifestyle you can actually stick with over time.
THE BIG NIGHT ARRIVES
You get dressed. You look in the mirror. You don't look 18. You don't look 25. You don't even look 35. You look like you. Only better.
You walk into the room. Someone looks up. They pause. And then: "Holy crap. You look GOOD!"
And that's when you know. You don't need to say anything. You don't need to explain your diet to a bunch of people who really don’t care about it. You don't need to mention your military style workout, how many miles you ride a day on your bicycle or your 10K time. You don't need to tell them about your cholesterol or your blood pressure or your percentage body fat.
Just smile. Grab a drink. Find your old friends. And enjoy the night. Because you didn't go back to high school. You went back to see old friends. And to meet some new ones. And if people notice you’re healthy and happy? That’s a great bonus.
And the best part? You can leave at any time. And tomorrow morning, you don't have to go back. Ever.
Now that’s winning.
SIMPLE PLAN
Eat fresh. Eat local. Eat simple. Look good. Feel good.
And make your old classmates wonder what the hell you've been up to for the last 25 years.
This article is for general educational purposes and isn't a substitute for individualized medical or nutrition advice. You should talk to your healthcare professional about any planned or necessary changes in your nutrition.
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