When I got engaged and started wedding planning, all I could think about was the future.

Then the desire to have a baby hit me, and my mind could only obsess further about the next step in life.

Now it's time I take a step back, have a few drinks and visit the past. There's no better opportunity to do it than at my 10th high school reunion next month.

Since no one else wanted to do it, I'm helping organize an event to celebrate our class. After the homecoming football game, we'll hit a local spot to reminisce about bad fashion, annoying teachers and unfair detention time.

The night revolves around an open bar, so certainly something interesting will happen, such as two exes making out under the table or someone revealing they had an affair with the hot teacher we all wanted.

Maybe I'm asking for too much from too few people. My graduating class included only 60 people -- well, 59, after one guy was expelled days before the ceremony for performing unsavory acts on campus.

Not many people, but enough motivation for me to shed a few of those newlywed pounds and look fabulous once again.

What if the boy who had a crush on me from sixth grade to graduation thinks I've lost my looks? I can't let that happen.

As I start to consider the appropriate outfit and hair, I remember how silly and self-conscious I felt five years ago at our last reunion.

At that point I thought I had nothing to talk about: no husband, no great job, no brilliant prospects. All my shallow 20-something mind could think was, "I want to be married by the next reunion."

Those lame thoughts disappeared over the next few years, but for some of my single friends it's something they are facing right now.

Fellow alum Emily whined, "The last thing I want to do is see people with their wives and hear them talk about babies."

At a recent happy hour, I winced when a married alum went on and on about his wife's incredible breastfeeding abilities. Not that nipples and latching aren't great topics, but not the best images when I'm trying to max out the open bar.

While I'm not jealous of the other married types and their fancy homes and cars, or even the babymakers quite yet, I can relate to feeling, "What have I accomplished?" which arrives at key moments.

The pangs of envy are unavoidable when I see Beth, the girl who tried to beat me at every sport (including dating) flaunting her globe-trotting career. Or the guy who never would go out with me strolling in to the event with a big-chested babe.

But there I go again, thinking like a high school kid.

High school was great, but it was also a time of cliques and popularity pressure. I never thought I was one of the "cool" people, but I never felt like a loser. I mixed well with both groups -- although maybe I'll hear something different from a drunken and disgruntled classmate who assures me I was a mean girl.

Beyond all the self-consciousness that going back to high school ignites, it's actually a trip worth taking.

Maybe I'll reconnect with someone I nearly forgot, or perhaps I'll learn something about myself I never knew. I'm hoping my first kiss is there, even just to make sure he's still as cute as I remember.

Either way, I'm done with that chapter in my life, but ready to skim the pages for one night.

I just hope I'm popular.

Laura Lewis is an adventurous newlywed who has loved, lost and doesn't mind sharing. Her column appears every other Thursday.