Exposed/Owning Yourself

First of all, I would like to say hi to Karen over at Standing At the Mouth of Truth.  I told you I had one of these that was more embarrassing than yours, sweetie.  At least your face was not mangled in that adorable little grade school photo you posted :).  As promised, here is the winner in lineup of my own “wall of photographic shame”.  This was taken during my third grade year.  I remember it well.  It was a mixed bag of emotions. I got student of the year and was honored by my teacher. (confusing, though, because they had me gave HER a silver coin) At any rate, it might have been perfect if not for this little photo.  In those days they did not do any retouching and what you saw was what you got. And what parent does not buy their child’s school photos?

What a joke really.  Back then the photographers came and set up in the cafeteria or gym (back then there were actually BOTH) and students piled up in line in for shifts of photo taking.  Why, oh why,  my “shift” always seemed to come after PE is beyond me; but such was my lot for years.  And I had loooong straight hair by the time I was in sixth grade which meant tangles galore and stringy wet hair for many shots.  Picture it: me shuffling into line with that little black doll’s comb they give you for free, the one I HAD to use because, even in high school,  there was no time to make the hike all the way back across the campus to my locker. You know the one-the locker that was located in Siberia Hall, in no close proximity to any of your classes, causing you to have to lug around most of your books and notebooks to every single class so as not to be late.  What?  You mean a girl can’t go to the bathroom, make the ten minute trek across the campus and back, and get into her seat in ten minutes? For shame.  Not that I didn’t try it once or twice.  I mean that history book alone was likely the reason for some of my back trouble today. But I digress.

The whole point is that I was so ashamed of this photo throughout my years in school, and begged my mother not to share it, show it, or even keep it.  But, well, you know mothers. I do; and now that I am one myself, I fully understand her position.  It was a moment frozen in time for a lifetime.  She didn’t care that my nose looked like ground meat or that my shame was larger than her adoration for her child.  And, somewhere in her mother’s heart she knew my own feelings would change once I matured-and had children of my own.  With four I can tell you we scraped up funds for every single photography school session that came along with only one exception.  My youngest was in high school, hated the photos, and admittedly wanted no part of it.  With the increased expenses of everything “going professional” I agreed not to purchase them. But pssst….I kept the sample photos and still have them today. In a dark drawer.  In an envelope.  Marked “TOP SECRET.” He was still adorable.  For those of you who are not yet parents, there are no bad photos of your child. 

I know, I know, I’m stalling. I know you are thinking it. So…..without further ado, let me give it to you.  My worst school photo ever.  And you know what?  I think she is really quite cute, even with the Bo Bo.  What do you think?  Do you have a “worst photo ever”? Tell me about it. 

 

 

(Uggh), I mean awwwww…hello Cheryl!!