|1980 -- 3 years old. Still cute, Santa appropriate|
I don't know if all children go through an ugly phase, but I did. Ugly, ugly. It should have been my super power -- the Incredible Ugly Girl. I had no business getting my picture taken with Santa.
|1982 -- 5 years old. Santa appropriate.|
I'm shocked that Santa even let me sit on his lap. I'm shocked that the camera didn't break -- maybe it did.
Mostly I'm shocked at how shave-your-dog's-butt-and-teach-it-to-walk-backwards-ugly I was. Even Lily noticed.
|1986 -- 9 years old. NOT Santa appropriate.|
And it was scary -- those god-damned ginormous pink eyeglasses and my man hair.
"They have way better glasses at my eye doctor's office, Mommy. You should have gone there," Lily said, wrapping an arm around me. "Those are huge. They're old-people glasses."
|1988 -- 11 years old. NOT Santa appropriate.|
My mom did those glasses to me -- the haircut too.
"Grandma shouldn't have made you wear those glasses," Lily said. "They are not pretty at all. I don't like them (insert fake puke noises here)."
|1989 -- 12 years old. WTF.|