Photo by Louis Malle
Now that I own a scanner (yes, it's 1996 up in here), I can finally share a childhood photo or two with the clamoring masses. You begged, you pleaded*, and now ye shall receive.
Here I am in my flame-attractant polyester Underoos and Mom's red cowboy boots. I'm pretty sure I dishabilled myself in this fashion at least once a day, so it probably stopped being cute after the umpty-umpth "Look, I'm Won-dew Woman!" Sorry, family.
I'm squinting because I desperately need glasses, but no one has figured that out yet. My hair is best described as Time-Sensitive Blonde; that particular wheaten shade that eventually dims to brunette. You gotta love that Happenin' House of the '70s: the brickwork lineoleum tile the color of bloody stool, the quasi-ethnic tapestry hanging on the wall, the wooden switchplates, the ornamental wrought iron "cage" that my parents had installed after my brother did an Evel Knievel from the landing. And though you can't tell in this photo, the walls were a very weird texture, like egg white whipped into stiff peaks.
My ears really stuck out back then.
*In my mind.