Today was picture day at school and I was confronted again with an event I used to dread every Fall. When I was in school, picture day was just another painful reminder that I was awkward looking. Every year I would tell myself that this picture would be different from the previous years. My smile would not be crooked, my eyes would not be half shut, my freckles would magically disappear, and the frizzy mop that sits atop my head would lay perfectly. Every year, however, a new deformity of which I had been previously unaware would announce itself in my school picture.
My freshman year of high school, I had not yet been introduced to tweezers and so it appeared as if two catepillars had set up camp above my eyes. My sophomore year, I had been plucking my eyebrows, however one of them was all askew in the picture and so it looked as if I had glued two new eyebrows on my face...in the dark. My junior year was the year of the bangs, the awful, awful bangs. My senior year was the year I sported the pixie cut AND was laughing in my picture, so it appeared as if I was having a seizure in the picture. Actually, it looked like my brother was having a seizure, b/c I looked like a boy. These pictures were a true attesment to the fact that modeling was not in my future...or television...or the presidency.
Adding salt to the already oozing wound, my parents would always display these pictures in a location where I could daily be reminded that I would forever have to get friends with just my charming personality.