Back in the Day...

Recently, a childhood friend of mine posted an old school photo on Facebook.

I was utterly mortified. I looked like a complete idiot.

I was an adorable child. My parents will tell you this, other people might agree, and I will tell you this. However, around the age of about ten or eleven, I turned into a complete, awkward mess. I'm not sure if it had to do with getting glasses or what, but something happened between fourth and fifth grade. And it only got worst till I was a junior in high school. I still tended to take horrible photos, but I stopped looking so awkward and geeky. (Sometimes.) I also finally stopped hacking off my hair to channel a mushroom.

But I digress.

The photo posted on Facebook (or The Facebook as some people call it) was from fifth grade. Oddly, I was actually wearing my glasses (I tended to forget them till I was in about seventh grade when I finally became blind enough to be unable to function without them). I also, for some unknown reason, tucked my shirt into my high waisted jeans. I know, back in 1995, those were like the ONLY type of jeans out there, but still. WHY DID I TUCK MY SHIRT IN? Out of the seven or six girls in the photo, only two of us were sporting tucked in shirts. And since I was the short one with the tucked in shirt, tapered jeans, and granny boots, I looked like an awkward mess. Even for 1995.

With the exception of the girl who posted the photo and one other, each person (besides myself) commented on the photo how, well, horrible she looked. Each one thought she looked the worst, completely passing over myself. (Who did look the worst. My brother agreed.) The photo had been up for quite a few days before I realized that likely all of us were totally embarrassed (in a ha ha ha kind of way) of how we appeared as kids. For the most part, when I see photos of myself as a kid, I don't cringe at the clothes. Yeah, I look dated, but for the most part I think I look fine. It's not till I hit that awkward stage (around the time of the photo), where I want to crawl into a hole and hide.

Though, out of all the years, I think my junior high years were the worst. I remember thinking during those years I looked GREAT. My mom let me have more control over my wardrobe (in eighth grade she took me to Old Navy to buy clothes and I almost passed out, as she never took me to "cool" places to shop. I had to take my dad) and I had wire rimmed glasses (which at the time I thought were great and cool).

My hair kept getting shorter, the glasses kept getting geekier, and I had braces. And I am just awkward. I am still awkward. I just can dress and do my hair now. In high school, when I finally stopped trying to channel a mushroom, I finally stopped looking like a complete train wreck. By the time I went to college, I had "style."

Seriously.

I never thought I had my own style. I wanted to look like everyone else. I shopped at the "in" stores (especially after I got a license and a credit card). My hair was finally somewhat under my control and not always in a scrunchie. (Oh god, the scrunchies...) My basic goal in life was not to look like an award mess.

But style? That was the farthest thing from my mind. Yet, for some reason, all my friends seemed to think I was the fashionable one, the one with style, and the one to come to when they had clothes questions.

I spent a lot of time blinking my first year of college when this would happen.

As I went through college, it kind of went to my head. Especially when this one well dressed girl told me she liked my style. I was totally flattered. And blinked a lot.

When I look back at photos from my college years (or late high school), I do not cringe at my hair, clothing choices, or glasses. Even when I still sported the braces, I looked okay. I do cringe at photos of me from after I got married, but not due to what I'm wearing. I usually cringe because I think my face looks fat or something else along those lines. Or why or why did I cut my hair off before we went to Del Rio? I look like a moron with short hair. I don't know why, but I think I look like a loser. And it always makes my face look fuller, so then I look fatter. (I know I am not fat. Even at the moment, I know I am not fat. If I were fat, I'd fit into my maternity jeans and I would have to take them in on the sides to avoid them a) falling down and b) having mom butt.)

That is another thing I began to contemplate while staring at this photo from 1995: will my daughter be an award mess like myself? She will be blind (I'm blind and Pilot Boy was blind till he let some doctor cut his eye up with lasers) and she will likely have some crazy hair. (When Pilot Boy has hair, it's curly and I've got a wavy/curly/straight mess on my head.) Will she likely listen to me when I try to tell her to do something because she will later want to hide her face in her hands when looking at a photo some twenty years later?

No. Just like I didn't listen to my own mother. I doubt she'll listen to me. Such is life.