April 29th, 2010
I think I can put the whole homecoming thing to rest with this photo, which is a total mess in more ways than one. I’m sure it’s seen better days and has probably just suffered the ravages of time.
So let me see what I can remember about this awesome portrait. It was the day after homecoming and I, Alan and our family dog, King, a springer spaniel/shepherd mix, are standing in my backyard. We’re holding on to King because the yard wasn’t fenced, and he couldn’t be trusted off-leash. Come to think of it, half the time he couldn’t be trusted otherwise, either. Having grown up together, there was plenty of sibling rivalry, and I’ve always considered King my brother. (He is another story in itself.) I’m outta the pink, so to speak, from the night before and am back in my standard fare…sweatshirt (of Virginia Beach origins), denim bermudas and black ‘n’ white saddle oxfords—ones with red soles—not white *ugh, and sorry if I’ve offended anyone*. Trust me, I’m in saddle oxfords, which I wore all the time…basic cheerleader stuff. (Which is another story in itself.) I think it’s obvious why one of my dad’s nicknames for me was “Birdlegs.” I can’t vouch for Alan’s cheesy jersey, but it looks like something he fashioned with electrical tape for flag football, which, right there, renders it cheesy. And I see one of my mom’s roses there in the background, which appears to adorn…
The hair. Holy cow. The fallout of a bouffant explosion. My hair is usually straight, give or take an uncontrollable wave or two or at the very worst, humidity havoc, but this was unprecedented. Thankfully, all it needed was a good shampoo. Until then, I’m sure #12 and I had a good laugh then agreed that any talk about big hair and makeshift jerseys was off limits.
April 28th, 2010
Here I am, holding back a giggle, probably embarrassed at my getup. This photo pretty much caught the entire costume (sans corsage) for the homecoming hoopla…pink polyester gown with silver sequined trim, pageant gloves, matching shoes and clutch bag…clutch bag, heh. Believe me, the next time those accessories saw daylight, it was on their way to Goodwill. The really girly things were, and have since been, totally lost on me.
Okay, here are Alan and me. Apparently there were two cameras in operation that night, hence the b&w and color. That hair. Wow. I remember my mother taking me to this beauty school on King Street in Alexandria, and for near-to-nothing the students practiced their skills on ya. Whoever did my hair was a real Houdini ’cause believe it or not, my hair was only a little below chin length. That evening everyone asked, “How’d they do that???” I may have answered with two words…Aqua Net. I’ll have to post a photo of my hair the next day…I couldn’t get it to lay flat for anything.
Poor Alan. I think I was the first in a line of high school gals who didn’t have real dates, i.e., boyfriends, and hit him up as an escort. But he always obliged. Lucky us.
March 19th, 2010
This is my friend, Alan, whom you may’ve read about here. He stands in my parents’ living room, probably asking advice on how the hell to attach this thing to me. (Funny, I don’t remember him bringing me cauliflower.) Anyway, I exaggerate on the four letter word, as my father would’ve censured him as soon as it crossed his lips. Really. This was taken the evening of my high school’s homecoming shindig at which I was a freshman attendant (thanks to Alan). I think my mother snapped it while I stumbled around in my pink and silver-sequined gown (not my first choice, but it was the only size 3 in town), fretting over whether or not one can of Aqua Net was gonna do the job. I’m sure someone came to Alan’s rescue with the corsage. And then I probably feigned an OUCH! And then we probably got into a slap fight. And then my mom probably yelled at us… You get the idea. The bash before the bash.
By the way, we girls all know by now that any Aqua Net is too much Aqua Net.
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