Oh yes I did.
Because I modeled in my first fashion show Sunday night.
A woman I interviewed this summer asked me to participate. (Note: this was before I got pregnant.) The forces behind the show apparently didn’t mind that I was pregnant, so I went ahead and strutted my stuff baby bump and all.
The experience brought back a similarly glamorous memory. Ladies from my generation: surely you remember the disturbing popularity of Glamour Shots.
I blame my mother for this frightening photo. She coerced me into posing for it after she got her hands on a free coupon. Of course.
I was in sixth grade. SIXTH GRADE. I look like an 11-year-old wife of a politician. You should see what the back of my hair looks like. The “stylist” was only concerned with POOFING the front. My mother calls it the “Barbara Bush picture” namely because I’m bedecked in pearls.
I secretly think she subjected me to this hideousness so she could laugh her ass off.
It goes without saying, the picture lives in infamy among close friends and family. Inspired by this weekend’s fashion show, I decided to scan and dissect it for your viewing pleasure.
PS. Happy Birthday to my best friend Ro! No one loves to giggle like you do. Here’s a post to start your day on the right cackle.