Like this one, from Christmastime 2006 at our apartment:
Truth hurts, so you may want to sit down (well, you're at a computer, so the chances of you standing are fairly low), but I actually proceeded to go out after this picture was taken. No, like, out in public. I believe it was to a bar or club.
Other than not being my best angle (or posture), let's forego the hair, face and winter solstice tan and instead focus our critique from the neck down. I guess at some point while clothes-shopping, I decided a classic white V-neck would look good on me. Little did I know this style only looks good on guys who actually lift weights on a regular basis, and the crease in my shirt actually makes it look like I'm a 12-year-old girl with budding, sore raisins.
With that in mind, I guess it was good I cover up my gaunt frame from the harsh elements (two birds with one stone) with a jacket, but it just makes me look my dad when he was called out to fight a fire in the middle of the night and had to throw something on in a pinch. And then there's the pants. They actually have a pretty nice fit and I still wear them to this day, although you wouldn't be able to tell with how high I've hiked them up with a cinched belt, causing the upper thigh area to balloon and making me look like someone who benefits from a rewards card at Northern Reflections (ahh, bonus points to anyone who remembers that store).
Turning our attention away from the disaster on the left, my friend Amelia has that settle, forlorn expression that suggests, "Well, I guess if he feels confident, that's all that matters." And Paul's his usual giddy self. Oh, and if you're getting into details, we bought our own Nativity because I love them. And yes Amanda, that's the Buddha head I told you I would ironically use to cause blunt-force trauma on a criminal who dares trespass while I'm at home alone.
