Picture Day

This is to publicly announce that I wasn't trying to be obscure. I was not on a quest to be the anomaly. Counter-culture wasn't my method nor my intention. I wasn't making a statement or trying to set a trend. Unfortunately, I was sorely lacking style and I was so happily content with my woefully shameful fashion sense that no one saw any reason to squelch my creativity.

The extent of this awkward taste in clothing proved most painfully obvious on picture day. To be fair I have proof that the fault does not lie directly on the shoulders of my parents. At the age when they had complete control of me I was age appropriate and dare I venture to say dangerously close to "cute":

Kindergarten, although completely 90-fied and toothless, I think even then I was under enough parental control to remain age-appropriate and normal looking:

The next few years are when the questions of "why" start to rear their ugly heads.
"Why" #1, (The Mullet):

"Why" #2, (Indian Maiden):

"Why" #3, (The Clips):

The next year was only 73% my fault... I had morning volleyball practice and no desire to get ready in a locker room. Solution? Butterfly clips and a sweater vest... crushed it.

Then it happened. A transformation from socially awkward adolescent to normally awkward teen. A friend from school took me under her wing and taught me the power of makeup, eyebrow care, and appropriate teen color schemes. She taught me to worry with michelle branch, cry with Avril Lavagne, and dance to Whitney, and Celine. I had a teen makeover moment that would rival any disney channel original movie. And my picture difference from freshman to sophomore year is nothing short of a mighty miracle.

freshman:

sophomore:

So those were my picture days... how I became a "designer" whose entire life revolves around style will be a question for the ages... all I know is... that mullet pic needs to be framed in my room forever.