I hate pictures

Let's just face it.  I'm not photogenic.  If I die tomorrow, James has specific orders on what photograph to use for the obituary, though just my luck, he's probably forgotten.  I'm not comfortable getting my picture taken and I would just prefer to never look at a picture of myself.  The only reason I get it taken at school every year is because something deep down inside me hopes that one of these times it will actually not make me sick to my stomach to look at (like this one - Though perhaps it would help if I would remember it was  picture day, even though it was a Friday, and wear something other than a t-shirt).  There is, of course, this picture of me stuck in a barrell - like this one.

But to celebrate my little bitty brother's big #18 birthday, I read blogs.

My sister found this young, sessy, super skinny, beautiful picture of herself to post in celebration of my brother's birth.  She's even in a swimsuit, no less.  The cute boy and the tall thin super model are enough that you don't even notice the flower swimsuit & green plaid shorts combination.

Here's the picture my mom chose to post.  Now, I'm sure my mom would respond to this by saying, "I didn't born no ugly children." But, honestly, mom, this is the picture you post?  Who is that person?  I have super creepy eyes.  My hair is a giant yellow buffalo that even at age 14, you know you had to curl it for me that morning.  It's obviously a Sunday (Willie was born on a Friday so he is now 2 days old).  My rebellious sister (is her shirt velvet?) is out of her church clothes already, but I still have my foo-foo hair and red flanel dress on.  The really sad part is that I liked that dress and would probably still wear it today if I had it (and it wasn't 10 sizes too small).  Braces!?!  Oh wait, I had them on my entire adolescents.  Sigh.  

I have always felt bad because "people say we look alike" is the tag line of many conversations involving my brother and I.  Whatever.  When people say that.  This is the type of picture that comes to my mind and I feel really bad that people are calling him a scary 14 year old girl with big hair, braces, and a flannel dress.  Sigh again.   

At least I didn't born no ugly children.