Monday, December 14, 2009

Today I Met the Boy I'm Gonna Marry

My husband's baby book is a wealth of terrific outfits. He chose his most hated for me to share here.
Even though he couldn't really have known at the time, the expression on his face seems to say how humiliated he feels in this Little Lord Fauntleroy outfit. Now, he still looks at the photo with complete disgust and remembers hating this outfit every time he saw it.
And there are many, many photos immortalizing this little number since his mother chose it as the wardrobe for a "professional" photo shoot.

This outfit was humiliating for many reasons. One, this was how his mother dressed him for his own 3rd birthday party--and no, it's not that she was a progressive, gender-bending, ahead of her time woman. It was just bad taste.
The pink pants are appalling, as is the wide, white girl's belt, but what he really hated was the shirt. There's really nothing about this that doesn't say girl's outfit. What was she thinking?
Oh, and on the see-saw in front of him? His first girlfriend--Stephanie Greene. How could she not have liked that hot ticket behind her? (Of course, check out her shoes. That's hot stuff too, and so practical for outdoor play.)

Before my two "favorites" of my husband's outfits, let's just say that he loved this Lederhosen outfit, and still loves it. He thinks he and his baby sister look adorable, and while I wouldn't torture our own son in the same way, I tend to agree.

When my husband and I met, nearly 18 years ago, he never told me I was dating a Super Model. And yet, here he is, in his modeling debut.
5-years-old, rocking the polyester leisure suit, and all for a good cause. The event was a "STYLE SHOW"--no, I'm not joking--to benefit the San Antonio Junior League. The collar, wider than the suit lapel, is especially lovely, and I'm sure made out of a fabric completely unknown in nature.

My husband looks physically pained when we revisit this last outfit. So many awful memories of this particular day.
Not only did he hate the violin, he hated everything about this outfit. The ill-fitting velour shirt, which he despised, and the wide-leg jeans. 10-years-old, his first violin recital, and probably his last.
We also have many duplicates of this photo, which doubles the shame as he remembers it possibly being sent out with the family holiday cards.

The best thing about family is that when we laugh at these, at least we're laughing with each other--I promise, honey.

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