Picture Day Disaster

All this talk about fashion reminded me of another “clothes call.”

Back in my era of unfortunate ugliness I dreaded picture day. But freshman year of high school I was stoked about it. Why? Because I had this bright purple, off-the-shoulder shirt that I was going to wear. Plus, by this time I had contacts (green ones, to be exact) and my hair had finally recovered from years of poor perms. I still had my braces (yikes, that reminds me; I gotta put in my post-breakfast rubber bands) so my plan was just to smile without showing my teeth. That look, coupled with my shoulder-less shirt was gonna be hot.

My friend Kathy also had her eye on my purple shirt. She asked if she could borrow it one day and that thrilled me because that meant my clothes were borrow-worthy. I told her she was welcome to borrow it…after picture day.

She agreed but then the day before my close-up she proposed an idea: “What if I wear the shirt for picture day too? My pictures are third period and yours aren’t until fifth. We could switch shirts in the bathroom at lunchtime.”

“But won’t that look weird in the yearbook, us wearing the same shirt?” I asked.

“No way. My last name starts with a “B” and yours starts with a “W.” They’ll be too far apart to even notice,” she explained.

That logic made sense to me. So on picture day I wore the purple shirt to school and when I saw Kathy in second period dance P.E. class, she was wearing this ugly, floral shirt. “It’s actually a dress,” she confessed. “I just tucked it into my pants.”

As I fake smiled and said, “What a great idea,” I realized that I would have to wear this shirt/dress concoction (sort of like a foreshadowing of the shkirt) until lunchtime when I would finally get my beloved purple shirt back. I reluctantly traded shirts with Kathy in the dance P.E. dressing room and messily stuffed the shirt/dress into my jeans.

Now this next part is fuzzy but for some reason we didn’t trade shirts at lunch; I can't remember why.

This I do remember: Me, pressing my face up against the narrow window on the door of Kathy’s fifth period Biology class, gesturing for her to come out in the hall and give me my shirt back. It was time for my pictures and I still had on the floral shirt/dress! I guess they were taking a test or something because she looked up at me and shrugged her shoulders (which were bare because she was wearing my super cool shirt).

To make a long story short, I’ve got the yearbook right here in front of me and here’s what it looks like:

Freshman pictures, page 156:
Kathy’s photo: Huge grin on her face, a perfect perm and my purple shirt! She didn’t even wear it off the shoulders for the picture. She wore it wrong!

Freshman pictures, page 167:
Elsa’s photo: I’m wearing the floral shirt/dress and not only am I not showing my teeth, I’m glaring at the camera and I look like I might cry…or kill someone.

I eventually got over it. But Kathy, if I ever run into you, don't think for a minute that you can borrow my shkirt.