I discovered that my parents don’t want to store all my crap for me forever and always. WHAT!? I thought they liked periodically looking through my photographs of drunk college parties, laughing about the high school love notes I carefully folded into tight, tiny triangles and never sent, shining up my many soccer trophies and reliving the championship moments… That’s what they were doing with all this stuff, right?
A spider sneaks out of the box I untape. After 15 years on the inside, he staggers about, coughing up dust bunnies and shrugging off the dramatic, hormone-distorted memories of my youth. I find some old art and journals.
Apparently, I liked ladies in bikinis, orchestra and art! I had not yet discovered Thespianism. Or sex. (Can you tell from that piece?) And after reading my journal, I discover things really haven’t changed that much. I do still love Hot Carls.
10% of the items survived. The rest… my fine collection of things that say “Coca-Cola” and are not collectors’ items, my would-be “Intro to Russian Nesting Doll Collecting” assortment of tinier and tinier wooden people, anything that says “Disney” on it. Trash. Or Goodwill. (Mostly trash.)
The things that make the cut are shiny badges of honor. This ribbon should have “Lauren Bair tried to make an omelette” scribbled on the back. *This is why I’m still single. Who got first place?? That girl’s got it made!
That tiara is from my reign as homecoming queen. I think I wore it for like 10 minutes, senior year of high school, in a ceremony during the football game. I’m not really a tiara, queen-y person. That night was the only time I’d ever worn a business suit. The tailored jacket says “I’m no beauty queen!”, the crystal, heart shaped glittery tiara says “(Gasp and slobbery crying) I’m a pretty pretty princess!”
I didn’t cry, don’t worry. I took the crowning like a man.
When I found the tiara, something occurred to me. I had not really appreciated my year as high school royalty. SO. I did what any other self-respecting former homecoming queen would do. I shamed my entire family by wearing the thing around in public.
That’s the bathroom at Loxley’s in Lancaster, PA!
The Hammond’s Pretzel Factory, Lancaster! (This picture reminds me of that meat factory beauty queen in “Drop Dead Gorgeous” — “I love it so much, I work here now!”)
Favorite quote of the day: My Dad, who raised three girls, “PLEASE………………….Take the tiara off.”
The milkable cow in Intercourse, PA (It’s a real city).
Second favorite quote of the day: My Mom, “You can be the Intercourse Princess!”
With my Ma-Ma and Pop-Pop in Lancaster! (You know you’re useless against that Olive Garden salad and breadsticks…)
I realized I’d have to give up my Queen-i-ness eventually. So I crowned the next beautiful princess…
In summary, my entire family is highly tolerant of whatever I’m doing. (Though I do confess to putting the tiara on just as my Dad would look at me. I couldn’t resist trying to slightly annoy him…!) I sometimes unknowingly test the bounds of their love and support and I never find the limits.