is my birthday.
The big three-oh.
Here are some photos
I managed to dig up
of the last 29 years.
eldest daughter, Elena.
But no. You're eyes do not deceive you.
It's actually me. I must have been about the same age she is now...
just before Christmas,
I lost my two front teeth.
Just like the song.
I was sooooo cool.
And had the best lisssthp.
My Granny Bananny.
She gave the best back tickles.
And she hid candy in the fruit drawer of her refrigerator.
Which is probably why she was perfectly squishy for cuddling.
You should see the shoes that I got with this outfit.
Yep, I was only six.
But I had style.
With a lavender sweatsuit.
Riding a bike with a banana seat.
Can you guess which one?
Even I had a hard time picking me out.
Hint: Middle row. I look like a boy. Chubbly cheeks. Bad hair.
I, apparently, lost my sense of style.
Dyed blue in the front.
The kind of rebel that obviously didn't own a set of Tweezermans.
Get a load of those eyebrows!
No. He was not my date.
We grew up in Wisconsin, not Kentucky.
He went with my bestie, Allison.
This is our American Gothic impersonation.
Sans the garden tools.
And I apparently missed the memo on the whole
"don't smile" thing.
I'm dressed in my snowboarder attire.
Sidenote: When I was seventeen,
my mom asked me if I, uh, you, know,
I thought her question came out of left field.
I now see it was a completely logical thing to ask.
The one that looks like me.
With two of my best high school friends.
The girl on the left, Brett, and I were inseparable from 6th grade on.
I'm happy to say we are still friends.
the one and only professional photo shoot I've ever done.
And one of the few usable photos from it.
I was twenty years old.
An entire decade ago.
The second year of my twenties.
I actually had a bikini body.
My honeymoon was one such occasion.
Seven years, two kids, two cankles, one marriage, one three-legged dog, and one big fat move later.
all of you,
for being a part of my thirty.