{"id":244,"date":"2012-07-18T19:29:00","date_gmt":"2012-07-18T15:29:00","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/ladyslittleloves.com\/2012\/07\/picture-day-k-12.html"},"modified":"2012-07-18T19:29:00","modified_gmt":"2012-07-18T15:29:00","slug":"picture-day-k-12","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/livingwithlady.com\/2012\/07\/picture-day-k-12.html","title":{"rendered":"Picture Day&#8230;K-12"},"content":{"rendered":"<div>In keeping up with the theme of the week&#8230;<\/div>\n<div><\/div>\n<div>Once I realized just how awkward I was as a child, I decided to discover just when the &#8220;awkwardness&#8221; all began. I found an album of all my old school pictures at my mom&#8217;s house, so it was easy to tell.<\/div>\n<div><\/div>\n<div>Kindergarten. Typical uneven bangs, side pony, plaid dress with poofy shoulders. Not too awkward, as I am pretty sure everyone had crooked bangs and puffy sleeves at this age.<\/div>\n<div><\/div>\n<div><img data-recalc-dims=\"1\" decoding=\"async\" alt=\"\" src=\"https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/2.bp.blogspot.com\/-gHj9vvkDhKw\/T_9ww7sDgnI\/AAAAAAAADQo\/Eyzp5Hw6lls\/s320\/SCAN0003.JPG?w=1140\" \/><\/div>\n<div>First Grade. Rockin&#8217; the crimped hair. Again, pretty typical. <i>I kindof wish we could still crimp hair.\u00a0<\/i><\/div>\n<div><img data-recalc-dims=\"1\" decoding=\"async\" alt=\"\" src=\"https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/2.bp.blogspot.com\/-79bzOxZCirg\/T_9wyzjlbtI\/AAAAAAAADQw\/If68zA-m7ls\/s320\/SCAN0004.JPG?w=1140\" \/><\/div>\n<div>Second grade is where it all started. The awkward &#8220;teen&#8221; years, though apparently it started a bit early for me.<\/div>\n<div><\/div>\n<div>I went in to get my hair cut wanting a short, curly new bob. You know, something full of bounce and fun. I came out with mop head. Apparently my hair really took to the perm.<\/div>\n<div><\/div>\n<div>Awesome.<\/div>\n<div><\/div>\n<div><a href=\"https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/3.bp.blogspot.com\/-sXuSbH5DCJo\/T-kPep-2goI\/AAAAAAAADE4\/KChaxKwFOuI\/s1600\/scan0002.jpg\"><img data-recalc-dims=\"1\" loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" alt=\"\" src=\"https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/3.bp.blogspot.com\/-sXuSbH5DCJo\/T-kPep-2goI\/AAAAAAAADE4\/KChaxKwFOuI\/s320\/scan0002.jpg?resize=230%2C320\" width=\"230\" height=\"320\" border=\"0\" \/><\/a><\/div>\n<div><\/div>\n<p>Third grade began the dreaded picture day with a cold sore. I was prone to cold sores as a child. And without a doubt, I seemed to always get one at &#8220;important&#8221; times in my life, such as picture day. My mom tried everything she could to help me cover it up, but I will always be tortured by those dreadful beasts.<\/p>\n<p>Is that a jean shirt?<\/p>\n<div><a href=\"https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/3.bp.blogspot.com\/-hzG2KFyDEIs\/T-kPf-xM3rI\/AAAAAAAADFA\/aUE9IxQf6LY\/s1600\/scan0003.jpg\"><img data-recalc-dims=\"1\" loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" alt=\"\" src=\"https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/3.bp.blogspot.com\/-hzG2KFyDEIs\/T-kPf-xM3rI\/AAAAAAAADFA\/aUE9IxQf6LY\/s320\/scan0003.jpg?resize=256%2C320\" width=\"256\" height=\"320\" border=\"0\" \/><\/a><\/div>\n<div><\/div>\n<div>Fourth Grade&#8230;. hmmm&#8230; I <i>suppose<\/i> okay&#8230;More plaid though..<\/div>\n<div><img data-recalc-dims=\"1\" decoding=\"async\" alt=\"\" src=\"https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/2.bp.blogspot.com\/-JniD-H3RZkI\/T_9w1kbNu_I\/AAAAAAAADQ4\/hDC7JmcKFF4\/s320\/SCAN0005.JPG?w=1140\" \/><\/div>\n<div>WHOA boy! Since I was awkwardly tall as a child, basketball was my thing. But apparently <i>someone<\/i> forgot to tell me that not only is my shirt on backwards, but my bangs are WAY too feathered and I am pretty sure I have a camel toe here.<\/div>\n<div><\/div>\n<div>Thanks, Mom.<\/div>\n<div><a href=\"https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/1.bp.blogspot.com\/-T26swqd_EsU\/T-kPhmxbkqI\/AAAAAAAADFQ\/D-GsxxpW6oI\/s1600\/scan0005.jpg\"><img data-recalc-dims=\"1\" loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" alt=\"\" src=\"https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/1.bp.blogspot.com\/-T26swqd_EsU\/T-kPhmxbkqI\/AAAAAAAADFQ\/D-GsxxpW6oI\/s320\/scan0005.jpg?resize=213%2C320\" width=\"213\" height=\"320\" border=\"0\" \/><\/a><\/div>\n<p>OoO, fifth grade. The year of the braces and no smile. Oh, and showing off the band instrument in the school pic. Cool kid alert!<\/p>\n<div><\/div>\n<div><a href=\"https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/3.bp.blogspot.com\/-dNsG07XBb-Y\/T-kPkBCuYYI\/AAAAAAAADFg\/Xo7-zHjlcNw\/s1600\/scan0007.jpg\"><img data-recalc-dims=\"1\" loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" alt=\"\" src=\"https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/3.bp.blogspot.com\/-dNsG07XBb-Y\/T-kPkBCuYYI\/AAAAAAAADFg\/Xo7-zHjlcNw\/s320\/scan0007.jpg?resize=254%2C320\" width=\"254\" height=\"320\" border=\"0\" \/><\/a><\/div>\n<div><\/div>\n<p><span>Sixth grade. \u00a0And yet again, another cold sore. Can you tell I was into &#8220;jean&#8221; everything? Those are jean overalls I am wearing, with a jean vest over them. Oh, and smiley faces were big this year too.<\/span><\/p>\n<p>Sick.<\/p>\n<div><a href=\"https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/3.bp.blogspot.com\/-LQUTyG9Oeyc\/T-kPmOhJxII\/AAAAAAAADFs\/Uwu1AWz72Hg\/s1600\/scan0009.jpg\"><img data-recalc-dims=\"1\" loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" alt=\"\" src=\"https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/3.bp.blogspot.com\/-LQUTyG9Oeyc\/T-kPmOhJxII\/AAAAAAAADFs\/Uwu1AWz72Hg\/s320\/scan0009.jpg?resize=239%2C320\" width=\"239\" height=\"320\" border=\"0\" \/><\/a><\/div>\n<p>Oh, hello seventh grade, no braces, big hoop earings and the cool-sexy head tilt.<\/p>\n<div><\/div>\n<div><a href=\"https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/1.bp.blogspot.com\/-lQzzuKaZ13Y\/T-kPmzEzIjI\/AAAAAAAADF0\/aXdbv4WK-P8\/s1600\/scan0010.jpg\"><img data-recalc-dims=\"1\" loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" alt=\"\" src=\"https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/1.bp.blogspot.com\/-lQzzuKaZ13Y\/T-kPmzEzIjI\/AAAAAAAADF0\/aXdbv4WK-P8\/s320\/scan0010.jpg?resize=223%2C320\" width=\"223\" height=\"320\" border=\"0\" \/><\/a><\/div>\n<div>And tilt&#8230;<\/div>\n<div><img data-recalc-dims=\"1\" decoding=\"async\" alt=\"\" src=\"https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/1.bp.blogspot.com\/-ilJpNRuTsXI\/T_9zqxsg5YI\/AAAAAAAADRc\/54KQzs7bq4o\/s320\/SCAN0025.JPG?w=1140\" \/><\/div>\n<p>Eight grade was the\u00a0introduction\u00a0of the eye liner. And something my parents liked to call &#8220;The Unit.&#8221; I was so obsessive about my bangs&#8230; each piece perfectly curled and doused with about a can of hairspray each time, that when the wind would blow, the whole &#8220;unit&#8221; would blow back up against my head.<\/p>\n<p>Who knew my parents were making fun of me behind my back??<\/p>\n<p>Jerks.<\/p>\n<div><a href=\"https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/1.bp.blogspot.com\/-YK1ptrcZlEQ\/T-kPnnblbqI\/AAAAAAAADGA\/vJpxdh45vqw\/s1600\/scan0011.jpg\"><img data-recalc-dims=\"1\" loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" alt=\"\" src=\"https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/1.bp.blogspot.com\/-YK1ptrcZlEQ\/T-kPnnblbqI\/AAAAAAAADGA\/vJpxdh45vqw\/s320\/scan0011.jpg?resize=236%2C320\" width=\"236\" height=\"320\" border=\"0\" \/><\/a><\/div>\n<p>Now in high school&#8230;. I ditched the eye liner and I think plucked my eyebrows for the first time. Because you know, the boys were noticing those kinds of things&#8230; ???<\/p>\n<p>I remember having a &#8220;rule.&#8221; If three fingers could fit across my forehead, then I should have bangs because that meant my forehead was too big. So apparently these strands of hair did the trick&#8230;.<\/p>\n<div><a href=\"https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/4.bp.blogspot.com\/-VOSLUlG64gE\/T-kPoQbpJCI\/AAAAAAAADGI\/vYVkwetafjw\/s1600\/scan0012.jpg\"><img data-recalc-dims=\"1\" loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" alt=\"\" src=\"https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/4.bp.blogspot.com\/-VOSLUlG64gE\/T-kPoQbpJCI\/AAAAAAAADGI\/vYVkwetafjw\/s320\/scan0012.jpg?resize=217%2C320\" width=\"217\" height=\"320\" border=\"0\" \/><\/a><\/div>\n<p>Tenth Grade. No more bangs! It only took me about fourteen years&#8230;<\/p>\n<div>\u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0<img data-recalc-dims=\"1\" decoding=\"async\" alt=\"\" src=\"https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/4.bp.blogspot.com\/-16gNzuVugGw\/T_9w3znLXrI\/AAAAAAAADRA\/P2kiFyqlg2E\/s320\/SCAN0006.JPG?w=1140\" \/><br \/>\nEleventh Grade, Oh wait&#8230;.. they&#8217;re sneaking back in!<br \/>\n<img data-recalc-dims=\"1\" decoding=\"async\" alt=\"\" src=\"https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/4.bp.blogspot.com\/-8N1e9AIYV0c\/T_9w6bgVzzI\/AAAAAAAADRI\/RVS3Wj6BVOk\/s320\/SCAN0007.JPG?w=1140\" \/><br \/>\n<span>And twelfth Grade. The typical senior pic. Alright..so it took&#8230;ten years of awkwardness? Maybe I bleached it out with all of those highlights&#8230;<\/span><br \/>\n<img data-recalc-dims=\"1\" decoding=\"async\" alt=\"\" src=\"https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/1.bp.blogspot.com\/-zUyuMXu1NmM\/T_9w9cvC_8I\/AAAAAAAADRQ\/ptlLxzH6LKk\/s320\/SCAN0008.JPG?w=1140\" \/><\/div>\n<p>It&#8217;s fun looking back at old pictures and being able to poke fun at myself. Who knows, maybe I&#8217;ll look at pictures from today in twenty years and will be cracking up at myself once again.<\/p>\n<p>At what, I wonder&#8230;<\/p>\n<p>Happy Wednesday!<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"<p>In keeping up with the theme of the week&#8230; Once I realized just how awkward I was as a child, I decided to discover just when the &#8220;awkwardness&#8221; all began. I found an album of all my old school pictures at my mom&#8217;s house, so it was easy to tell. Kindergarten. Typical uneven bangs, side [&hellip;]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":2,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"nf_dc_page":"","om_disable_all_campaigns":false,"_monsterinsights_skip_tracking":false,"_monsterinsights_sitenote_active":false,"_monsterinsights_sitenote_note":"","_monsterinsights_sitenote_category":0,"jetpack_post_was_ever_published":false,"_jetpack_newsletter_access":"","_jetpack_dont_email_post_to_subs":false,"_jetpack_newsletter_tier_id":0,"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paywalled_content":false,"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paid_content":false,"footnotes":"","jetpack_publicize_message":"","jetpack_publicize_feature_enabled":true,"jetpack_social_post_already_shared":false,"jetpack_social_options":{"image_generator_settings":{"template":"highway","enabled":false},"version":2}},"categories":[7],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-244","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-life"],"jetpack_publicize_connections":[],"yoast_head":"<!-- This site is optimized with the Yoast SEO plugin v23.4 - https:\/\/yoast.com\/wordpress\/plugins\/seo\/ -->\n<title>Picture Day...K-12 - Living with Lady<\/title>\n<meta name=\"robots\" content=\"index, follow, max-snippet:-1, max-image-preview:large, max-video-preview:-1\" \/>\n<link rel=\"canonical\" href=\"https:\/\/livingwithlady.com\/2012\/07\/picture-day-k-12.html\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:locale\" content=\"en_US\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:type\" content=\"article\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:title\" content=\"Picture Day...K-12 - Living with Lady\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:description\" content=\"In keeping up with the theme of the week&#8230; Once I realized just how awkward I was as a child, I decided to discover just when the &#8220;awkwardness&#8221; all began. I found an album of all my old school pictures at my mom&#8217;s house, so it was easy to tell. Kindergarten. 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