Wherein I contemplate getting a brand-new face

I hate my senior pictures. There I said it. Hate them. It’s really not a secret though, I’ve joked on them since we got the proofs and my mom framed an 8-by-10 of probably the worst one, one that still hangs in the family room at their house, so that the only way I could escape it was to move out.

We refer to it as Lancelot, because really, there’s no other way to explain it. I’ll just show you…

Sorry it’s dark. It was 10 years ago. It’s an artifact.

Now let’s dissect it.

1. A turtleneck. WTF. That smile on my face is fake because a) I can’t smile on command and b) I am most likely choking. Turtlenecks do that to me. And it’s white. What the hell? I’m surprised there’s not something on it already. It takes me .912 seconds to get something on a new white shirt. We may have kept this in an air-tight container until moments before this photo.

2. Beautiful cheekbones, I will say that. Still got ’em, too. I am 90 percent sure they are what fools people into thinking I’m photogenic (seriously, I get that a lot and I think it’s hilarious).

3. Class ring. Currently unaccounted for (but somewhere in this apartment so don’t freak out, Mom, it’s probably in a box in the closet) and this was the only day I wore it besides the ring ceremony where we got it – proving my point that I do not need an engagement ring when proposed to someday. Guys (well guy, I guess, whoever you may end up being), don’t waste your money on bling for me. We should spend the money on a trip instead.

4. BANGS. The bane of my existence my whole senior year – well, that and Kris. This was about the time I decided to start growing the bangs out. Do you know how long it takes to grow out bangs? They were SHELLACKED to the sides of my head at prom because they weren’t long enough to pull back or to leave like they are in this picture. Rough life, I tell ya.

5. Split ends. Also, right where that number five is? The ONE natural wave I have in my hair. ONE. Whyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy?

Oh also? This is Lancelot.

The resemblance is astonishing.

I tell you that story to tell you this one.

The background: While in jolly olde England this summah, (yes that was all intentional) I bought my family souvenirs, because I am that sweet and thoughtful. While at Abbey Road, I bought my mom a Beatles bag, that she now uses to take her lunch and other stuff to work.

Exhibit A:

Earlier this week, she relayed to me a story involving said bag that made me wonder what exactly I must really look like, because my mirrors have got it completely wrong.

Apparently the bag was sitting in the back room and was folded over so you couldn’t see that it said anything about the Beatles. Her friend/co-worker, who is someone I used to like asked her where she’d gotten a bag/why she had a bag with my picture on it.

My picture. Or, you know, one of Sir Paul McCartney. Same thing.

Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to go have a cry and re-evaluate every haircut and fashion choice I have made in my almost 28 years of life.

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