There has been this old-photos challenge going on on Facebook lately. Not that I am sure why everything has to be a challenge
It's 1982 and I turn one year old and have chubby cheeks and look an awful lot like my son. Or, he sure did look an awful lot like me when he was a bébé.
My sister and I sit on a rock some years later.
And then we pretended we were on the beach in Miami where my dad had gone for business and bought us these sundresses. My youngest sister apparently wears the pink one still as a nightie. She's rather tiny. There are not so many photos of me with my youngest sister. One where we are rocking her in a swing when she's a baby and we are wearing these really strange Playboy sweatpants & shirt combo that my grandmother had bought when she was on holiday in Ibiza. "There's a cute rabbit on them..".
Jump some five-six years forward and I'm fifteen and in a drama group and featured in this leaflet. I dyed my hair and all my clothes black at that time. My friend dug this one up some time ago and it gave me a laugh indeed.
And then I turned sixteen and seventeen and was a hippie but these ones you have seen at some point already. I also notice that it was possible to get caffe lattes by then.
I still have that dress, a yellow 1960's sundress that used to belong to my grandmother's sister. Not that if probably fits me. But it's in a chest in the bedroom along with some other clothes that I still hold on to.
Not sure how to end this one here so I'll do it with the latest photo there is of me, which, suitably for our age is a selfie from earlier today when I found this field with sunflowers that one could pick and that was a nice thing for my Monday.
(For the recored,, being older is a lot better than you'd picture it to be when you are say, 15 or 21. Phew.)