While on a brief stay at my parents' home last week, I did what every grown daughter is supposed to do when she goes to visit her parents. No, not throw out all my headless barbie dolls––they are still safely in a box in storage.
But I did go through my old things, remembering the good old days, and the not so good old days. I ended up looking through some family photo albums, which initiated my new favorite pastime––taking digital photos of old photos; or a little technique I like to call "lazy."
One of my finds was this, my very first passport photo:
And why would a two-year-old need a passport, you ask. Because I needed to go to Japan. What, that answer does not satisfy you?
There are a couple things to be noted about this picture. One, my coveralls were clearly too big for me, proven by the big bulge of fabric at my midsection. Two, my left sleeve has clearly been mauled by a badger, accurately exemplifying my style at the age of two.
This is my current passport photo:
I guess not much has changed, really. Although it's been a while since I wore a red jumpsuit. I'm not going to show you the passport photo in between these. It was taken in my early teenage years––'nuff said.
Speaking of passports, I am currently overjoyed to be home again, finished with traveling for the present. Every time I travel by air, I wonder how I got myself into that predicament again. From what I hear, it's like pregnancy––constraining, inescapable, people touching you in places normally considered off limits, bringing out the worst in you and inducing attacks of claustrophobia––yet you gladly sign up for another go as soon as the memory has faded. The similarities are uncanny.
Hope you are also enjoying an airport-security-free week.
OneArmGirl
But I did go through my old things, remembering the good old days, and the not so good old days. I ended up looking through some family photo albums, which initiated my new favorite pastime––taking digital photos of old photos; or a little technique I like to call "lazy."
One of my finds was this, my very first passport photo:
And why would a two-year-old need a passport, you ask. Because I needed to go to Japan. What, that answer does not satisfy you?
There are a couple things to be noted about this picture. One, my coveralls were clearly too big for me, proven by the big bulge of fabric at my midsection. Two, my left sleeve has clearly been mauled by a badger, accurately exemplifying my style at the age of two.
This is my current passport photo:
I guess not much has changed, really. Although it's been a while since I wore a red jumpsuit. I'm not going to show you the passport photo in between these. It was taken in my early teenage years––'nuff said.
Speaking of passports, I am currently overjoyed to be home again, finished with traveling for the present. Every time I travel by air, I wonder how I got myself into that predicament again. From what I hear, it's like pregnancy––constraining, inescapable, people touching you in places normally considered off limits, bringing out the worst in you and inducing attacks of claustrophobia––yet you gladly sign up for another go as soon as the memory has faded. The similarities are uncanny.
Hope you are also enjoying an airport-security-free week.
OneArmGirl
