My father's new favorite past time is reading my blog posts and then emailing me an appropriate embarrassing photo from my youth that I'd not only forgotten existed, but sometimes even blocked the entire experience from my mind. I guess that way, he ensures I never forget the fact that I was once a loser who grew up into an even bigger loser.

This was what was waiting in my email box this morning.

These aren't really prom pictures as I recalled yesterday. They're actually from two different Homecomings... I remember at least that much. I do not however, remember owning blue eyeshadow. That, I'm gonna call a camera trick.

I'll refrain from commenting on the boys or mentioning their names because I think at least one of them reads this blog occasionally. So if you're out there... sorry, dude!

Holy too much lip gloss, Batman!

I think I might have even made this dress myself. I can't think of a reason other than incompetence why I would have worn something that highlighted my freakishly long neck in such a manner and I seem to remember that it was home sewn. His tie, I believe, was a belt in another life.

When I was doing such things as going to homecoming dances, it was the biggest fad to make boutonnieres with a small rose bud in the middle of the carnation. We all thought it was the coolest thing since George Michael... and look how he turned out. Today I think this looks like a tumor is growing out of that carnation on his lapel... either that or some eerie foreshadowing scene from The Blob.


I post this as a cautionary tale to all you kids out there gearing up for prom in a couple of months. Sure you think you look cool in your get-up today... and you probably do. Just remember that coolness is fleeting and someday you'll be scrambling around on the interweb trying to take back every photo ever taken of you in those knickers and cloche hat. Or perhaps, like me, you'll be posting them on line yourself in a desperate cry for the psychotherapy you've always needed. Either way, it's not a pretty ending to your story.