It's been about six months since I've done a Bad Decision Tuesday---please, if you haven't seen Sean's amazing high school hair, I implore you to go break a rib laughing at it---so I thought I'd kick things off again with a real humdinger.
I would like to warn you here that you may never recover from what you are about to see. Thirteen year olds are, historically, not the most attractive bunch---all those roiling teenage hormones and not enough Clearasil in the world---but the fact that I was thirteen in 1993 didn't exactly help. The 1990s were a serious handicap to anyone's coming-of-age, am I right? I mean, you're thirteen in 2011 and the worst fashion faux pas you can commit is carrying your iPod in a sparkly case instead of a shiny one. You're thirteen in 1993 and you end up looking like this:
Yes, I will wait while you pull yourself back together.
This is a picture of me and my friend Sally (she's on the left, obviously), right before we left our boarding school dormitory for a field trip to Chessington World of Adventures. Now, Chessington World of Adventures is a suburban theme park in southeast England, a sort of Disneyland for the Home Counties. To our thirteen-year-old minds, however, we might as well have been going to Studio 54. We stressed for weeks over our outfits. We got ready two hours in advance. We all borrowed each other's clothes (that's my friend Beth's shirt I'm wearing; Sally's green top actually belongs to me) and though there is sadly no smell-o-vision on this photograph, I would bet my entire lifetime savings account that we were both doused liberally in Ex'cla-ma'tion! perfume. Why? Because we thought we were going to meet boys.
I'm sorry, I feel like I need to repeat that. We dressed this way on purpose. TO ATTRACT BOYS.
I'm not sure what those mythical boys would have found more irresistible, really: my aggressive hair flip? My high-waisted baggy jeans? My five-sizes-too-big plaid shirt, which almost certainly belonged not to Beth, but actually to Beth's dad? Certainly they would have been impressd that I took my large plastic glasses off for the pre-departure photo shoot and yet kept them on, strangely enough, TO RIDE A ROLLERCOASTER.
Here though, Internet, is the piece de resistance. Here is the nadir of my day at Chessington World of Adventures (where we did not, if memory serves, meet one single boy.) Here is where thirteen-year-old me in her voluminous plaid shirt and her oversized brass crucifix thought it would be a hilarious photo op to climb inside a miniature dog kennel in the Wild West portion of Chessington World of Adventures, and pretend---quite convincingly for a non-dog owner, I have to say---to be a dog.
Excuse me, a dawg.
You realize that now I can never run for public office, right? You're welcome. I hope the laugh was worth it.