Wednesday, February 6, 2008

Hump Day

Once in awhile it will occur to me to go rifling through boxes of stuff that I have so lovingly hurled into the cave otherwise known as my hot water heater cupboard. Today was one of those days. As I dug my way through the mountains of containers, boxes, books and paper, I found myself staring into a mound of photographs that I had thought lost long ago. Pictures of my children, pictures of my husband and his family, some of my mother and two of her husbands (love you mom), and of course some of myself.

I suppose it is inevitable that when looking at pictures of yourself, there would be the odd one that would give you pause for thought. Often, with me anyway, this thought it rather along the lines of "Oh dear God, who the hell can I kill for taking such a horrible picture, and how many fucking chins do I *have* anyway?!". 'Twas not the case today, oh no! Today, I was blessed (?) with the opportunity to find pictures from my childhood. And, as it is hump day and I think we all deserve a good laugh to get us through the day on Hump Day, I thought I might swallow what little overinflated pride I have left, and share them with you.

Hotty Hubby thinks I am certifiably insane for even considering this, but such is life, and really he doesn't have any idea what torture these photos could bring in the future as he was somehow blessed with the "Hotty" gene. More about that incredible stroke of luck another day.

Where was I?

Ah yes, pictures. Hands up who remembers having a Snoopy Sno-Cone Machine! Yes, many of us were lucky to be given one to continually torture our parents with "Mooooooommmm, can I have a sno-cone? It's ONLY -13 out there!". As it happens, I too was one of the lucky ones and the moment was caught on film. Please note the beautiful long hair on my cousin Tracy, and the helmet on me. We'll have a discussion on this later.

According to my mother look was rather "in" at the time. I was almost willing to believe that parents all over the Western civilized world were using bowls as a guide for cutting their daughter's hair for that time period until I found a picture that was taken almost FOUR years later and was shocked, nay...Horrified (yes that's right, with a capital 'H') to see that I *still* had the same hair cut. The difference this time was that my loving parents (read: tormentors) had added yet another fashion accessory. See if you can spot what I'm talking about....

Oh the memories. You cannot even begin to imagine how happy it made me to come across these mementos.

And while we're on the topic of haircuts and "style", let me take you back a couple years to before the glasses fiasco. I'm 5 years old and I'm thinking that somewhere along the line, some embodiment of the Devil himself waltzed up and whispered in my mother's ear that I would just *love* to have that short new hair do that everyone is raving about. The only other feasible reason for this upcoming photo that *I* can think of is that I mentioned to a friend of a friend of a friend that I'd like to have the same hair as that gorgeous little girl down there, and through a long convoluted game of Chinese Whispers, it finally made its way back to my parents that I would like to look like a blonder version of freakin' PETER PAN! What were they thinking? Really? Was it a game in the early 80s to see how much torture one could inflict on their child before someone actually said something? Was it not enough that my hair was hacked to look like I had survived the Texas Chainsaw Massacre, I had to be dressed to look like a boy also? I think I feel a migraine coming on.

On the other hand, by looking at these pictures, I am beginning to see where my hellions....cough...children, get their stellar good looks from.

I am told that at some point, all of us went through a phase where we tried this Blondissima look. Thing of it is, I wasn't trying for Blondissima, I was trying for a witch. I was 15 and it was Halloween on a British Air Force Base in Germany. What else would I do but make my face white, eyes dark and hair a blue rat's nest? Exactly...nothing. Sadly, I cannot even blame this particular look on my parents, this is the pure unadulterated foolishness of weird teenager that had nothing better to do. Even worse? I'm *still* that foolish. Surprise!

I believe it was also at that age that I was shocked, frightened and rather mortified at exactly how much I looked like my mother. Except she doesn't have blue hair and heavy black eye liner. It wasn't til I was almost 18 that I was able to hear someone say "you look like your mother" and take it as a compliment. Now, when they say "you SOUND like your mother", that's another matter. You might want to strap on your running shoes and take off pretty damn quick because this baseball bat is going to come down on the back of your skull.

Seriously though, my mother has her faults like all of us, but I think in the long run she did a very good job of raising me...and she's still working on my sister and step sister. Bless her heart. Sooooo close to freedom and she gave birth AGAIN. Hahahahaha. Not that I was any smarter.

And for your final round of amusement in this game we call "Hahah look at Meg..what an idiot", here is a picture that for years I thought was awful thanks to comments made to me about how I looked something like "pigs wrestling under a blanket" or some such thing. Looking back now, I realize how incredibly smoking HOT I looked. Hell, I'd do me. And that handsome guy standing next to me? As much as my darling spawn would like to tell you that that is Daddy, it is indeed NOT Hotty Hubby. That would be Rory. He kindly escorted me to my Grade 13 Ball ( military boarding school....another post altogether) after my boyfriend at the time unceremoniously dumped me OVER THE PHONE (asshole) for a cheap slut in the grade below me who happened to be my friend. And no, I'm not bitter.

 Well, th-th-th-that's all folks! Hope y'all had a good laugh at my expense.....albeit a cheap one. I aim to please, and if nothing else it made me realise that I should never again allow my parents to have a say in my hair styles or choice of glasses, and I should never ever try that "witch" look again.

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