Inspired by kittenpieMe, doing the wrinkly red raisin newborn routine. The hospital put some sort of grease (baby oil?) on their newborns heads, so it wasn't until I was three weeks old that my Mom found out that I had curly black hair.
Six-eight months old? The picture on the right cracks me up. I have no idea what I was afraid of - but suspect it was the bedspread.
14 months old. Rosey gives me this look all the time.
Close to two. Opinionated even then. Also had a penchant for hats early on.
Three years old. Look, I'm missing teeth too! And my lord, I look like a Breck commercial! I'd kill to have that hair now....
And then I was seven. And got gangly. And uncomfortable with my body. Actually, the only one who looks comfortable in this picture is my mother, and she looks....stoned. (Not saying she was, but Jesus, mom, the glasses?)
Sixth grade. I took my much-hated retainer out for the picture. That was a hard year. I switched schools, and it was tough to make friends - I didn't help by being snooty (I'd just come out of a private school.) Once I stopped playing someone I wasn't, though, I fit in better. Amazingly, I still have some of those friends. But I don't still have the sweater.
Whoo-ey! Betcha can't guess what era this was taken in!?! And I would lay odds I was wearing gauchos on the bottom, too. And possibly boots. And most definitely bracelets that matched the earrings. My god-father there is probably trying not to burst out laughing at my outfit. Or it may have already possibly broken his camera lens.
And there's the Whitesnake hair. Big Hair? I has it.
Senior picture, 1989. My dad took them - I was the only one in my graduating class that had black and whites, and I still love them.
Okay! I cannot be the only one who has Whitesnake hair and bad outfits hiding in their photo albums. I'd love to see yours. I'll snicker quietly. Promise.