Today, the kids brought home school pictures. The youngest one came running into my office this afternoon; smile a mile wide. She couldn't wait to show me her mug. When one is five, the 8 1/2x 11 picture swallows one up. Her beaming face was full of pride as she dramatically waved the glossy in front of my face. I was forced to stop what I was doing and behold her effervescent beauty. There she was. Draped in a little, red Strawberry Shortcake dress she got from the Goodwill store. Her raven-black hair slightly askew with red, floral hair bow drooping helplessly on her forehead. The big scratch across her face from dog wrestling the Pomeranian the night before hardly showed up on the picture thankfully, but she did look like a girl with a story to tell. A story of how proud she was of what she was wearing that day, and of how proud she was to be her. Her big smiled stretched from ear to ear, and her dark, almond-shaped eyes looked right in to the lens that day; leaving one to wonder what mischievous activities she had planned for the rest of the afternoon. I just stood and stared at that beautiful little girl, and took in her exotic loveliness for a minute. A far cry from my elementary school pictures.
In third grade I wore a green plaid dress. It was 1974 and I had long, white blond hair parted down the middle. I had white blond eyelashes, which made me look like radiation treatment gone ary. The fact that they were white made my larger than life eyes look even bigger. Rat girl. I have since then grown to love my eyes. I think my head finally grew into them. So, that picture was the butt of all my parents (dads) teasing back then because I wanted to smile a big toothy smile just like my idol, Donny Osmond. I decided I wanted His smile, so I stretched my lips up waaay high over the top of my teeth that day for the greasy photographer, and smiled a rather large, canine smile which showed every single tooth in my head...molars included. I remember grandma said, "Well, it looks just like you kid." Mom smiled and said, "Aww, that is sweet." She'd say that though no matter how crappy my picture looked. That's what she did. And then there was my dad. He looked at it and let out a larger than life, gut busting guffaw. "Ba Ha Ha Ha!" Then to make matters worse, he imitated my smile. I couldn't help but laugh because I knew that's what I looked like! My first real lesson in humility.
Then there was the short hair picture of 1976. There I stood hands encroached around the liberty bell, American flag frozen on a painted back drop behind me. I was developing my first case of acne, and missing a few teeth; which were by the way, not only yellow by this time from lack of brushing, but crooked. Acne, crooked yellow teeth, short Dorothy Hamill wedge haircut, and the white eyelashes which made me look ill. Plus a striped sweater which gave my already boobless shape a more concave appearance. I looked like a boy. A boy heroin junkie..with crooked yellow teeth.
Pictures really never got any easier for me. Take for instance my senior pictures. I had been lying in the sun all day, dripping in baby oil sans sunscreen. I was literally fried when I went in for my pictures. To make matters worse I decided to wear a purple blouse. Purple blouse and purple face. White 80's, overteased hair. I looked like an Oompa Loompa Ziggy Stardust. Yes, my dad still teases me about that one too.
Today I got my school pictures back as well. This year I've decided I'm just happy I don't have a double chin. I'm glad I can count the wrinkles looking back at me in my photo on one, well one and a half hands. I'm happy I'm forty pounds lighter than last year's picture. I also look at my picture and see a woman with a story to tell. A woman with a little mischief on her face, and one who's had experiences...good and bad. I can tell you that makes me happy.
In third grade I wore a green plaid dress. It was 1974 and I had long, white blond hair parted down the middle. I had white blond eyelashes, which made me look like radiation treatment gone ary. The fact that they were white made my larger than life eyes look even bigger. Rat girl. I have since then grown to love my eyes. I think my head finally grew into them. So, that picture was the butt of all my parents (dads) teasing back then because I wanted to smile a big toothy smile just like my idol, Donny Osmond. I decided I wanted His smile, so I stretched my lips up waaay high over the top of my teeth that day for the greasy photographer, and smiled a rather large, canine smile which showed every single tooth in my head...molars included. I remember grandma said, "Well, it looks just like you kid." Mom smiled and said, "Aww, that is sweet." She'd say that though no matter how crappy my picture looked. That's what she did. And then there was my dad. He looked at it and let out a larger than life, gut busting guffaw. "Ba Ha Ha Ha!" Then to make matters worse, he imitated my smile. I couldn't help but laugh because I knew that's what I looked like! My first real lesson in humility.
Then there was the short hair picture of 1976. There I stood hands encroached around the liberty bell, American flag frozen on a painted back drop behind me. I was developing my first case of acne, and missing a few teeth; which were by the way, not only yellow by this time from lack of brushing, but crooked. Acne, crooked yellow teeth, short Dorothy Hamill wedge haircut, and the white eyelashes which made me look ill. Plus a striped sweater which gave my already boobless shape a more concave appearance. I looked like a boy. A boy heroin junkie..with crooked yellow teeth.
Pictures really never got any easier for me. Take for instance my senior pictures. I had been lying in the sun all day, dripping in baby oil sans sunscreen. I was literally fried when I went in for my pictures. To make matters worse I decided to wear a purple blouse. Purple blouse and purple face. White 80's, overteased hair. I looked like an Oompa Loompa Ziggy Stardust. Yes, my dad still teases me about that one too.
Today I got my school pictures back as well. This year I've decided I'm just happy I don't have a double chin. I'm glad I can count the wrinkles looking back at me in my photo on one, well one and a half hands. I'm happy I'm forty pounds lighter than last year's picture. I also look at my picture and see a woman with a story to tell. A woman with a little mischief on her face, and one who's had experiences...good and bad. I can tell you that makes me happy.
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