One of my favorite things to do when I visit my parents' house is to look through all my old photo albums, flip through my yearbooks and basically just reminisce. And on my last trip, I thought, why not share the fun?
Modeling my oh-so-stylish grey corduroy jumper
and bowl cut that followed me through childhood.
This was my very first ferret that I named Christina.
Why? Because my parents didn't name me that.
And I remember totally resenting them for it.
Here's a closeup of my inability to get my hair in a bun.
I remember my mom practically ripping it out of my head,
trying to get it to stay, then eventually giving up and
Aqua-Netting the crap out of it. Sadly, not even my awesome
sparkly sequined headband did the trick.
Even better? My graceful claw fingers and closed eyes. I'm sure
all four of the other mothers were very eager to pay top dollar for this gem.
Next on the tall, gangly tour, here is my
seventh-grade field hockey photo. Nice how the
photographer captured the tennis team in the background.
And my super crooked self-cut bangs.
Here I'm singing during a dress rehearsal for "Annie" where I
played an orphan. I was in fifth grade and thought I was
so cool hanging out at the high school. With high schoolers
and everything. In my smock and long underwear.
Then there was that time I bought a box of blond hair dye
right before my boyfriend's junior prom. And it turned out
orange. And my hairdresser did her best to fix it. I think
she thought the bigger she made it, the less people would notice.
The only thing giving it competition? My GIGANTIC CORSAGE.
And as if you needed any more proof to solidify my awesome taste
and style, among all the photos, I found this poster. Long-live NKOTB.