But I'll be gentle.
I promise.
My first victim is my seester, since she's such a good sport and probably won't want to cause me bodily harm. And since I don't want the real pic to be first in the post, I'll show you one of us circa 1986 that's actually not all that bad.
Aren't we sweeties in our pretty Sunday dresses?
This was pre-glasses for me, so I am blissfully unaware of the fact that I'll be spending the next several years with half my face covered up by tortoise frames.
Fast-forward six and a half years.
My only recollection of taking this picture are my Mum's words, "Sit there and act like you LIKE each other".
Clearly, I could not have been more thrilled.
No, we didn't churn our own butter.
Those long, skinny, bird-legs shot up on me that summer, making me at least a foot taller than all of the boys (and girls) in my 6th grade class. Awesome.
Duck Head was cool then. I promise.
Where are my boobs?
Sheesh at the green socks.
Sheesh also at whatever that lamp is wearing.
No offense Mum, but 1992 was the height of, "Country Living vomited all over our house. Come see."
I promise my eyeballs are in there. Behind the glare.
Those with naturally curly hair should never have bangs. Repeat it with me,
"THOSE WITH NATURALLY CURLY HAIR SHOULD NEVER HAVE BANGS".
Clearly, our house was always open to friends/family. The border says so.
Now wasn't that fun? And seester, since I gave you no prior warning, I'll be sweet today and won't mention your recently-grown-out-from-a-bowl-cut hair-do. I'm sweet like that.
Have an awesome weekend, y'all!
