|how fabulous is this?|
To which I said, GENIUS! Because she is. She really, really is.
My official senior portraits have a bit of a backstory. I'd had braces since like 1927 so I really, really didn't want to have braces in my photos. So my orthodontist, who was THE coolest ortho ever (he was. don't even try to front.), took my braces off just for the photos and put them back on after. Like I said, coolest ever.
So the big day came and I was all brace free, but my skin broke out pretty badly and no amount of Cover Girl was helping this girl. Nonetheless, I slathered on the makeup and off I went. When the photos came back, I HATED THEM. I cried. I thought I just looked so awful. I bawled. The world was over. I might die of THE HORROR! THE HORROR!
Of course, looking back, I may have just been that special brand of insane reserved exclusively for teenagers. Plus I was probably on my period. Just sayin'.
Well my mom ordered her favorites anyway and then we waited like 6 months for the actual photos. Little did I know, the photographers touch those babies up. So my acne-riddled photos turned out like this:
I was seriously not that cute in high school, I swears. But I will take the credit for the shiny hair. I've always had good hair.
But the second photo? My mother ordered a HUGE canvas print of the kind billionaires hang above mantles in their castles. Which they delivered to the school. And I had to carry around all day. Oh yes. I think I maybe even had to take the bus home that day. And before you think that's cute, remember that my mom is INSANE and she was so stoked that I was humiliated. Thought it was hilarious. Told everyone she knew.
For the record, so you know how I really looked in high school, I'll show you my senior ID:
Yup. That's a little more accurate. Though I didn't wear flowers on my head every day. Just for special occasions. Like ID picture day.
And here's my favorite photo from senior year of high school:
That's from prom. My date there was one of my very best friends who happened to be on-fire-gay. However, he got the brilliant idea to bleach his eyebrows the night before prom so they would match his hair. No. Just no. Bad gay. Bad.
Wasn't my dress gorgeous? My aunt in a stunning act of generosity beyond her means bought it for me. It was crocheted with a cream lining and so everyone all night asked if I was naked under the crocheted layer. "Yes," I said, "I came naked to prom. Right." The only thing I remember being wrong about the dress was it was too big in the boobs (as was all my clothing) and I had to get it taken in.
Now you show me yours. Don't forget to link up!