My mother recently gave me the old family photo album. The problem, you see, was she did so in the presence of my daughter. My daughter was beyond elated. Contained within those stiff, aged pages were photographs of her father, several of which were perfect ammunition for blackmail.
"Oh, these are going online," she said, and followed it with a frighteningly nefarious giggle. Where would they end up? Facebook? Google+? Twitter? All of the above and then some? She's a crafty little thing and may even be capable of hacking my blog and humiliating me in my own little corner of cyberspace.
So I did what any self-respecting man my age would do. I grabbed the least damaging photograph of my younger self that I could find, scanned it into the computer and at the last minute, signed up for the Baby Face Bloghop that Trisha from Word + Stuff was hosting.
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| When you're cool, you just know it. |
So here it is. This photograph of my hip little self was taken around 1965 while living in Hawaii. Mom had a thing for hats and bow-ties. And I mean she had it bad. I strutted through my entire preadolescence like this. I still carry the emotional scars. Mom still thinks it's cute. Those scars run deep.
But at least now I shouldn't have to worry about my daughter posting those really embarrassing baby pictures of mine anywhere. At least, that's the hope.
