this would've been an appropriate to time to remind her that this is all her fault. no, really. it is. i will spare myself the utter humiliation of sharing the photographic evidence against her. but suffice it to say that every time i thumb through the album of my chronological 8x10s, i have to pause [and gasp] at nearly every one and say, "mother! it was one day out of the year. would it reeeallly have been so hard to pencil it in?".
the worst one that is comes to mind (forever etched in my memory and also in the yearbook) is the one from sixth grade. granted, at the age of 11 as a tween in my first year of junior high, perhaps i was at an age where i could have and should have kept up with picture day myself, long having learned the lesson from my elementary school photos. but no. this particular morning, i [obviously] overslept and then opted for a pale pink sleeveless shirt. and by sleeveless, i mean it was one of those sweatshirt-material-type shirts that looked as though the sleeves had been cut off. or ripped off. you know, something you might see someone wearing at the gym in the late 80s. as if that weren't painful enough, you can barely see the edge of the matching pink pleather-like bow sticking out of my disheveled hair. i vaguely remember the horror i felt when i got to school and realized that everyone else looked conspicuously spectacular that day. yes, this was the last time i ever showed up at school on picture day unprepared. it's probably also the last day i ever wore that pink sleeveless shirt. i'm not saying the pictures improved drastically over the years, but i do take complete and total responsibility for the ones that followed.
oh, one would think this is all my futile attempt at displacing yet another childhood insecurity onto my own children with the hopes they would look back on their school photos with fondness. and perhaps it began as such. but growing into this whole adulthood thing, i'm becoming less naive, albeit slightly so. no, i realize that - inevitably - my children will have a similar disdain someday when looking at their photos. perhaps they will wish that i hadn't kept up with it. i can hear parker now, "mother! would it have killed you to NOT put me in a smocked jon-jon when i was three years old?" or "WHAT was up with the sweater vests?" and chloe chiming in, "or those giant bows!". although, let's face it: more likely than not, when my children reminisce over old school photos, the attire will just be a side note to their memories of mommy's spastic behavior the day before and dreaded morning of. only then will i show them my album of school photos and we'll do what me and my sister and my mom do everytime we look at them: giggle ourselves to tears.(and as a side note, i have to give bloggerific mad props to GYMBOREE. [one of] the only [reasonably priced] children's clothier that is still making clothing for KIDS that look like clothes for kids and not leftovers from britney spears' hay-days shrunk to size. i am horrified by what i saw at the department stores).