It has come to my attention that some believe I have embarrassed third parties sufficiently and it is high time I turn the tables and humiliate myself. And here I thought that being honest and admitting to food cravings, weight gain and poor wardrobe choices were all shameful enough.
This time we are going to discuss bad clothes and attractive hairstyles.
We all know I am not known for my styling abilities and I apparently have a particularly difficult time with raincoats. When my family visited Ireland in 1996, a raincoat seemed absolutely essential to my packing list. I found a lovely plastic number in a flattering shade of metallic blue. It went really well with my plastic shoes and white socks, don’t you think?
When I cut my hair short the summer before eighth grade, I had no idea I would leave the salon with curly hair. Puberty and less weight on my locks, left me looking like a late-blooming Shirley Temple, eight years too old and some sixty years behind the trend. I spent a year growing it out and started each day of my freshman year waking at 5:45 so I could tame those ringlets into submission. Some days my technique was more successful than others.
Picture it, Duluth, Minnesota circa 1996. It must have been summertime since Mary and I are both wearing shorts, but heavy outerwear still seems necessary. Obviously it was very humid, case in point: