"It gets so much better. You'll get braces. And your hair will be awesome one day."
Followed by: "What are you thinking?"
I came across pictures in my mom's closet
I have mostly happy memories of my childhood, mixed with a very awkward stage that a lot of us went through. Those God-awful middle school years.
I'm convinced this had everything to do with bad hair, pre-waxed eyebrows, shoulder pads, and acid-washed, high-waisted jeans that were always too short.
And awful purple Bonne Bell lip gloss.
I was the queen of bad hair. Having naturally curly hair can be a blessing and a curse, depending on if you know what to do with it. I did not. Clearly, my parents didn't know how to deal with it, either, so when I was 9 years old, they thought it would be cool to cut all my hair off. This resulted in me having hair nightmares, because short hair on me? Is the biggest DON'T ever. Oh, but my hair grew back. Chi-chi-chi-chia... And once again, it was... well... big hair. And sort out of control.
My past is filled with memories of summers in Greece, where I'd play with Patapouf and Bibi-Bo, drink Nou-nou chocolate milk and orange Fanta, and eat Dracula Fingers chips while reading trashy romance novels.
The summer I was almost 13 was the summer of Debbie Gibson and Tiffany playing on repeat on my yellow Sony walkman on a beautiful island in Greece. I had a favourite white skirt and navy blue top with shoulder pads. Shoulder pads! I loved that outfit. Right down to the white penny loafers. (Really, Loukia?)
I posed a lot, back in the day. Like leaning up against a wall type posing. Not sure what look I was going for here. This was the summer I was 14, when I was in England. I had bad hair but good taste in books. I read Wuthering Heights that summer, thinking there was no better place to read it than the place it was written. And I wore really short shorts. God, I loved those shorts.
I was all about desert boots and duckies, Tretorns and push-down socks, Esprit and Benetton. I kept journals where I wrote bad poetry, that I still have today. Most of what I wrote is cringe-worthy, of course. A blog post in itself, if I'm ever looking for something to write about. I had Hilroy notebooks turned into scrapbooks filled with pictures of celebrities, and collections of BOP magazines. I tried hard to perfect the Alyssa Milano circa Who's The Boss? pouf. It never worked on me, but my best friends, blessed with straight hair, had the best pouf's ever.
I used to be a dancer, and took the obligatory recital pictures, year after year. This picture shows me in my least favourite costume, ever. Again, this picture is majorly cringe-worthy. I am the reason the term "jazz hands" exists today.
While in high school I finally figured out how to handle my unruly curls (hint: don't brush them!) and fell in love with fashion. I got rid of my braces and I won "best dressed" my graduating year which isn't something to be that proud of, but still. I had come a long way from just a few years before!
In university I was too busy studying to even remember what I wore, but college years were all about pleather tops that exposed way too much skin, and... why do I look like a bobble head? A few months after this picture was taken I landed my internship at CBS TV in D.C, and got my style sense back. When I wasn't at the TV station I was in Georgetown, shopping and maxing out my credit card. Some things never change, I guess.
I think pictures stopped being embarrassing after college.
Since then I've learned a thing or two: pleather is always a no, especially red pleather snakeskin pants, find a good hair stylist, and remember that confidence comes from within. It's not about the size of pants you wear or where your clothes are from. The pictures I get the most compliments on are the ones where I'm smiling my biggest, most sincere smiles. Usually it's when I'm thinking about my children.
So there you have it. My most embarrassing pictures, ever, exposed on my blog. It's totally a blogging rite of passage, isn't it?
Please tell me... do have pictures from back in the day that make you cringe? That make you shake your head and wonder what you were thinking? That make you laugh out loud? Or is it just me?