Childhood Nightmares

I have not taken the time to look at my childhood photographs in a very long time. Usually, when I do I end up embroiled in a nasty argument with my mother about what the hell they were thinking when they decided to let me leave the house looking a certain way.

Exhibit A is the above shown picture of me circa 1979. Clearly I was not a child anyone loved. These clothes:

A. Do not match
B. Do not fit
C. Should not be worn in combination with each other. EVER.

Seriously folks, do you see how the stockings bunch up at the ankles? Do you not see the pained look upon my face? The single earring? The stuffed animal I am holding doesn't even appear to be enjoying life. And clearly, CLEARLY, no one has bothered to run a brush through my hair for days.

My mother insists that I wanted to dress this way and that they let me only because no one wanted to argue with me. My mother lies.

What I am reading: John Cheever - Short Stories
What I am listening to: The Streets - Original Pirate Material