I didn’t mention this new feature in my last blog post because I just decided to do this after a telephone conversation with my sister. It started so simply with me asking if she had any photos of me in my ROTC uniform. (She did. Those will come later.) But while rummaging around for those, she found all kinds of other photographic goodies–and by goodies I mean I was a some crazy kind of eye-candy in my teenage years. Candy isn’t the right descriptor. The thing is, I didn’t belong to a group. I sampled nearly all groups. I was at one time or another each of the following: cheerleader, softball player, marching band geek, jazz band geek, ROTC nerd, Jesus freak, theater junkie, student council representative, Cinefile, and to top off all these things I had a bizarre fixation with Mickey Mouse/Disney World that exploded all over my clothing. Oh, and I should mention that my dad taught at my junior high school; he was my social studies teacher and the football/basketball coach. You can imagine the photo humiliation I can impose on myself. And I shall…
I start this self-deprecating Sunday off simply: a photo of the weekend version of myself, when I let my 1991 hair wall down to have a day at Kings Island with my friends and family. What you can’t see are the fluorescent orange Converse All Stars. But the glasses alone are humiliating enough. I bask.
Every aspiring YA author should showcase her teenage years, no?
UPDATE: I am submitting this post as part of a contest over on the Anne and May Blog in which they are asking for humiliating photos and stories from High School. Check out their new book, A Little Help From My Friends. (October 11)