Bootstraps. When you get knocked down, you pull yourself up by your bootstraps. You pick up the pieces and move on, leaving the trash behind.
I promised embarassing pictures of me as a kid. Here are embarassing pictures.
In the tenth grade, I got invited to the senior prom. Love the puffy sleeves and the matching tuxedo. And yes, I’m wearing gloves. Classy! He drove a 1964 Mustang. Gorgeous car.
Here is the entire series of school photos. I’m not sure what happened to all of my junior high yearbooks, so I just have the one. The rest are from high school.
More photos after the bump!
I’m not sure WHAT grade this is. Fourth, probably. Big square glasses.
8th grade. Apparently I took the glasses off for this one. LOVE the necktie.
9th grade, still wearing big glasses.
10th grade – Contact lenses! Also the year I got my braces off.
This is also the 10th grade. The yearbook staff wanted a “candid” shot of a sophmore interrupting hard-at-work seniors. Oversized sweater and jeans that are probably tucked into slouchy socks.
11th grade – I had this theory that there was no point to wearing earrings if you couldn’t see them from 50 yards.
And finally, the senior proofs. Sorry, the top of my head got cut off in one of the scans. Notice how carefully the photographer posed us to ensure our class rings were visible. I DID NOT stick my finger in my ear voluntarily.
This is the one that actually went in the yearbook. We all hated that red venetian blind background.
And the coup de grace. I was in the marching band. No, I didn’t play an instrument. I was a “runner.” My job was to run out on the field before the band started and put all of the color guards’ flags and sabers into the correct places so that during the choreography when they changed equipment, it would be right at their feet. To protect the other innocents in that photo, I fuzzed them out. A school should not pick green and gold as their colors.