Day One: A Bad Beginning
Aw, y’all, thank you for welcoming me back all nice, and for saying all your nice words. Please check me out now, drunk with the excitement of being able to type on here! TYPE TYPE TYPE. This is what I am doing! I am not even kidding you! TYPE TYPE! Soon I will start writing gibberish (I mean, more so than now, even), and we will see why maybe too much access is a bad thing, and why the Internet saw fit to divorce me in the first place. Hey, Internet! The quick brown fox jumped over the lazy dog! Did you know? TYPE!
Aaaaaanyway. So, back to the point, that being my Comprehensive Retrospective of Awkward Periods (code name: CRAP), which continues today. I am thinking I am going to try to do this CRAP chronologically, which in this case means, “Let’s sort of go from bad to worse,” or “at least I was still kind of cute when I was a little kid, but by the time I start doing my own hair, we are entering some seriously troubling territory.” But, that is awfully structured, what with the chronological business, so I might give it up. I especially might give it up since Dukay and I spent the better part of last evening going through even more pictures in an effort to locate even more examples of my own humiliation. This is how that went down:
Self: Hey! Come over and help me.
Dukay: Is it the kind of helping that is heavy?
Self: No. I need you to pick out all the ugliest pictures of me.
Dukay: Oh, yeah, because THAT doesn’t sound like a trap AT ALL.
(Hee. DUKAY SMART!)
But, actually, no. He is not that smart, because he eventually agreed, and we settled in with several enormous boxes of photographs (also maybe several enormous glasses of wine) and went through them, one by one. And we found some prime examples of CRAP, but I haven’t had a chance to scan them yet, so they might get interjected later this week. Or, maybe we will find even worse CRAP. Dukay specifically remembers a picture of me that made him “shudder,” a revelation accompanied by him actually, physically shuddering at the very memory, but he can’t remember anything else about the picture, including its current location. Apparently, it was so bad that he has blocked it from his mind, so it now lives deep in the land of Dukay’s nightmares. And, hello. THAT SOUNDS PROMISING.
Anyway, maybe we will find that one. Who knows! I should probably involve my mom, who allegedly showed Dukay the shudder picture in the first place. Or, ooo! I should look on my Dad’s desk. Dad’s desk used to be a clearinghouse of personal embarrassment, so you know there has to be some quality there, maybe even in a special drawer of unspoken horror. And thus, a plan was formed.
But, anyway. So, today we are going to look at outfits that are arguably not my fault, because I am small enough that someone else (MOM) chose them for me, with an evident lack of concern (MOM) regarding humiliation or subsequent therapy bills (MOM MOM MOTHER MOM). At this time in my life, I lived outside of Washington, D.C., and harbored a serious, non-platonic crush on He-Man. As the impossibility of that relationship began to dawn on me (too muscle-y!), I shifted my affection to Michael Knight, because He Is A Knight Rider. That love proved much more long-lasting, persisting until I was seven or eight, at which point I left him for…Christian Slater? A member of Poison? I forget, but don’t feel bad, Michael Knight. It wasn’t you; I grew, and I changed. And that just happens sometimes, when you are six.
I am sure I had additional interests during this time, other than imagining tongue-kissing David Hasselhoff, but I can’t remember them now. Except, oh, wait. Yes I can: Star Wars. I have previously described my childhood Star Wars obsession, and my relationship with a very special pressure cooker, but the short version is that the year I was five, I watched an illegal copy of Star Wars pretty much every afternoon on the Beta Max in my parents’ living room. I loved Star Wars, LOVED IT, and please check out this unbelievably fantastic Leia getup my Grammy made for me:
Aren't you a little short for a stormtrooper?
Now, granted, this was Halloween, but I wore that Hood of Endangered Princesses until the fabric actually disintegrated off of my body, thereby displaying the Leia Underoos underneath. And God in heaven, what I would not give for any of those fashion items today. Those were totally kick ass.
Unlike…well, a lot of other things I wore during this period of my life, which were significantly less ass-kicking. Although, I have to say that now that I am looking at all these pictures, I realize that I touched upon a lot of cultures with my ensembles, much in the manner of a melting pot, if a melting pot wore plastic accessories. For example, have you ever seen someone wearing lederhosen and a lei before? Like, at the same time? Lederhosen and lei? Lei and Lederhosen? No? Liar!
When I was not acting as an ambassador of Hawaii, Germany, or Alderaan (I just googled that), I apparently spent my time kicking ass as the smallest member of Miami Vice:
You can put my car seat in the Ferrari, Tubbs.
By the time this next picture was taken, we’d moved to Atlanta, so I’m guessing I’m…nine? At any rate, by now I at least have the decency to look appalled by my all-bunny ensemble (MOM):
Happy fucking Easter! LIKE MY HEADBAND?
Around this same time:
Guess who got braces a week after THIS class picture was developed?
KITH ME, DAVID HATHELHOFF!
(And here I just have to say, O CLEAR BRACES OF OLDE, you were the lie of orthodontia. Back when I had them, clear braces were not clear. They were yellowish, and they made you look like an insane and crafty farmer had superglued a single kernel of corn to every tooth in your head. Which is maybe the epitome of “sexified” to an insane and crafty farmer, but not so much in junior high, and that dingy plastic mess postponed my first kiss for a solid five years. Or…well, okay, maybe not just the braces, but they certainly didn't help matters in the slightest.)
Sigh. Anyway, that is all I’ve got for today, but with that last picture, you can probably tell that we are beginning to enter whooooole new territories of Awkward. So gird your loins for tomorrow, and kitheth and aloha to you all!