So instead of immersing myself into some productive project sure to bring joy to some and financial security to others while providing myself with the do-gooder euphoria that only substantial efforts like hard work and sacrifice can offer, I decided to spend that time going through old photo albums and scanning random photos of myself.
Here's what I discovered: I don't think a good photo of me exists. I'm being completely serious here. I think that I am physically unable to take a nice, normal photo. It just doesn't happen. If I'm not dressed like a freak, in a strange predicament or having a really awful hair day, then I'm not in a photo. It's like a curse.
My evidence: (you can click on any photo to enlarge it...but do so at your own risk!)
This photo was taken maybe 5 years ago. At first glance it looks like an ok photo, if you don't count my flyaway frizzy hair. But at closer inspection, you would see that my legs look freaking emaciated. I have been thin but I have never been this freakishly skinny so it has to be the angle. But it makes my feet look huge, like I'm one of the Old School Bratz Girls. And I never noticed this, but a friend pointed out that the collar of my shirt is stained and asked if I had stolen the shirt from a homeless person. At least I'm not the only freak in this photo. Koko (on the right) has a freakishly huge tongue.
Rewind a few more years (like 10) and this is me at some point in college. I'm the one in the They Might Be Giants t-shirt that is only 17 sizes too big for me, rocking the purple-lensed John Lennon specs and the backwards baseball hat. Yeah, even back then I had a sense for fashion. Someone saw this and asked me why I was wearing men's' clothes. The sad part is that this wardrobe was all mine. Even the jeans, which were bought about 2 sizes too large and sat on my hips so ended up too long so I just ripped the bottoms off.
In my defense, this was taken at a work camp I attended, along with my friend Lisa's church group, in Appalachia, VA. While there, I was lucky enough to clean black crap out of someone's refrigerator, clean more, yet somehow genetically different black crap out of her toilet, then scrape another species of black crap out of her kitchen sink before trying to delicately explain to this woman how I need her to move off the couch so we can figure out how to get the pee stains out of it before she makes more. And many more fun and exciting volunteer activities that kept reminding me that I was doing good for these people despite the fact that I actually paid money to sit in smelly gunk that was more than likely a combination of human waste and dead animals.
Anyway...
This is me and my friend Brian at my 22nd birthday party. I know what you're thinking. You're really pissed that you weren't there. Because we look like we are freakin party animals. Yeah I'm pretty sure we tore down the house that night. F-ing life of the party. Yeah. Don't hate the players. And don't be jealous. Not everyone can be as wild and crazy and reckless as we are. Ok.
I must have been 16 or 17 in this shot although I look older. Some people, mostly guys taller than 5'10" who weigh over 200, call me small. Personally I never considered myself small, but whatever. I guess it's all relative. Compared to this guy I was definitely small. And the "nice" thing about being the fun-loving small girl in a group of fun-loving larger men is that you find yourself in interesting positions. I don't remember the details surrounding this particular incident, but I'm sure I did something blatantly wrong that earned me this coveted spot in the storage room, lost in a sea of keyboards. If I remember correctly, there's also a shot of me shoved into a comparably small space in the portable outside storage unit that was dumped behind the store to hold excess stuff during the busy season. And I probably have the same stupid grin on my face...
This photo could be a lot worse, but I like the story that goes with it so I shoved it into the scanner as well. I think I was 19 here, and I took a trip to New York City to see Sean Altman perform with Minimum Wage and Five O'Clock Shadow. What? You've never heard of them? Wow, you're really sheltered, you should get out more......Anyway, I'm walking down the street and I see this street performer attempting to make balloon animals. I say attempting because all he could produce was what was sitting on his head. People were requesting giraffes or poodles and walking away with a pathetic orb to put on their head.
So I walked up to this guy (which is very uncharacteristic of me- I was extremely shy at the time!) and offered to help, then proceeded to show him how to make a few animals. Don't ask me how I knew how to do this because I honestly don't know. But it sure came in handy!
OK I think that's it for now. That was only one album so I'm sure there will be a Part Deux post in the quasi-near future.
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