According to my mother, this picture was taken somewhere in Cairo (where we were living at the time) to memorialize my First Communion. As for my brother – maybe my mom was hoping to find an audtion for an Egytpian remake of Saturday Night Fever after the photo session. He’s looking pretty fly for a short little guy.
I look as if I’m being tortured. It could be those glasses. Or the fact that I’ve got a veil and a tiara crammed on my head like the child bride of some polgymyist colony.
So I had to ask my Mother. Did she beat me with a wooden spoon right before the camera went off? Had she just informed me that my dream of being Wonder Woman was hopeless because there was no way I was gonna look good in those knee high red boots? Had she flushed our goldfish?
“You were sick” she said.
“And you still made me go get my picture taken?”
“Well, of course. It was your first communion.”
“Was I just a little bit sick or like dying of gangrene and ebola sick”
“You were sick sick. Right after that picture was taken you turned your head and threw up everywhere”
Did my sweet sweet mother then say ” but I felt so bad that I made you take that picture. Obviously your little tummy wummy was all icky wicky my poor wittle angel”.
She said “Honey, I’m really hungry. I have soup and a sandwich waitin’ on me.”
And just like that she was gone. I think she invented one of the mantras of motherhood: The vomitus shall eruptus but that will not stop us.
What’s the story behind your worst childhood photo?