I just wrote half an entry about how wedding planning is haaaaaaaaaard, no-one ever told me it would be haaaaaaaaard, why is it so haaaaaaaard, but then it made me want to kick myself in the teeth and punch myself in the clavicle and karate chop myself in the pancreas, and so I deleted it instead. And then I thought "well, what am I going to post about now?" And then I remembered.

What did I remember? Well, I remembered that I have something to show you. I found this something a few months ago at my parents' new house in San Diego, you see, when my sister and I were going through the drawers of my old desk, a desk whose drawers definitely hadn't been gone through since at least 1999. In these drawers, I found an old stack of photographs. And amongst this old stack of photographs, I found gold, pure comedy gold.

Internet, I think you will find it nothing less.

Here is me, aged approximately ten, I would say, wearing a pair of stonewashed jean shorts and a midriff-baring top---along with my dinner plate-sized spectacles, of course, all the better to look sophisticated and alluring, n'est-ce-pas?---in the clutches of a swarthy Frenchman three times my age at a Club Med Resort in Malaysia circa 1990.

I know, it's like a bad acid trip, right? OH, BUT THERE'S MORE. Here is me, aged approximately ten, wearing a pair of stonewashed jean shorts and a midriff-baring top, along with my dinner plate-sized spectacles, in the clutches of a swarthy German man three times my age at a Club Med Resort in Malaysia circa 1990.

And here is me, aged approximately ten, wearing a pair of stonewashed jean shorts and a midriff-baring top, along with my dinner plate-sized spectacles, in the clutches of a swarthy Australian man three times my age---well, alright, maybe this one's only twice my age---at a Club Med Resort in Malaysia circa 1990.

I don't remember why the Australian's head is scribbled over in yellow like that, but I do remember that his name was Justin. Hi, Justin! Remember me? What a cute, sweaty, eighties-looking couple we make! Too bad it WASN'T ACTUALLY THE EIGHTIES ANYMORE, EH?

When I showed these pictures to Sean just now, he stared at them bemusedly for a few seconds and then said "there was nothing.....untoward going on here, right?" Because yes darling, as an awkward ten-year-old, I would frequently pick up international men in bars at night, luring them in with my unparalleled beauty and my dangly fan-shaped earrings and THOSE GLASSES, OH THOSE GLASSES, DON'T YOU JUST WANT TO RIP THEM OFF MY FACE AND STAMP ON THEM. As you can see, aged ten, I was a stone-cold fox.

No, those dudes were Club Med employees---leaders of the Kids' Club, if I remember rightly---and we'd just finished doing a show together. Are you familiar with Club Med and its nightly shows? As children, we thought they were the bees' knees, these shows: every evening, the entire staff would dress up and do hilarious skits and sketches for an hour, and at the end there was always a massive singalong, during which the entire audience would rise to its feet and sing along to a medley of songs, one of which included the lyrics "boom, boom, boom, let's go back to my room."* One night a week, the Kids' Club put on the show, and this was always a highly charged event, full of hours worth of practicing and fretting about costumes. One year---in fact, I believe it was this year (uh, by which I mean the year the above photos were taken, not, you know, THIS year)---my role in the show was to lip-sync along to Kylie Minogue while sporting a sequined miniskirt and crimped hair. Ah, my fifteen minutes of fame. 

*HOLY MOTHER OF ABRAHAM LINCOLN, I FOUND THE VIDEO OF IT! It's filthy! Why were they letting children sing along to this?!

Did anyone else ever go to Club Med, by the way, when they were younger? As a child, they were the most wonderful and also the most bizarre vacations. And yet, if the pictures above are anything to go by, apparently not lacking in relatively attractive---if a little creepy---French and German and Australian men, and relatively undiscerning ones at that (again: did you see those glasses?) Hmm, maybe if this wedding thing doesn't work out, I should go back.