Gavin Draughn
I opened the envelope only to find what felt like a death sentence. My acne looked like the Hawaiian Islands had erupted, I had little to no eyebrows, and somehow the white undershirt I had on looked liked crumpled up toilet paper.
Thanks mom.
A similar experience I’ve encountered with school picture day was in fourth grade.
Fourth grade. The year of the sweater vests. Looking back, I don’t know what came over me to wear those monstrosities. Not to the mention the old man skechers; at least they somewhat complimented my outfit that day as I posed by the rushing fake waterfall.
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