With over seven years of content on my website, it’s no wonder I don’t revisit the past as often as I should. (Which probably is a good indication as to why I keep finding myself somewhat repeating it…) And yet when I do, I’d better save at least an hour to go through old posts and – more time-consuming than anything – old photos. Which, on yet another day where I have VERY little to do (only because I’ve been up since 6am and already went climbing, read/watched the MacWorld keynote, and accomplished EVERY LAST THING on my to-do list!) is exactly what I’ve been doing for the last half-hour. Prompted by Daisy’s question of whether or not she should cut her hair (I directed her to my old post showing the aftermath of my Locks of Love donation) I found myself sucked into my pre-Flickr Typepad photo gallery days. Which has caused me to question the important things: my taste in men, my taste in drinks and – most importantly – my taste in fashion. To note:
WHAT THE HELL AM I WEARING? If there was a fugly contest where users had to design the most hideous of dresses, I’m sure I would have been the grand prize winner. Keyhole neck? ZEBRA PRINT-slash-PALM LEAF PATTERNED? For God’s sake, this was what I wore to the going-away party I was throwing my then-boyfriend! That whole "moving to Chicago, going to B-School" reason for dumping me was a farce; CLEARLY he was appalled by my taste in clothing.
I have nothing bad to say about this costume – I made $50. (Note that I had a flippable "cost" sign so that I could determine how much I should charge per kiss. That, and the $40 I got for smooching a clown helped.