The other day, my brother sent over a bunch of pictures from a trip my family took when I was three. These photos are all on slides (Remember those, boys and girls?) and as such have not been seen since that one time in 1984 when my dad rolled out the slide projector.
I don’t remember this trip at all. These photos did, however, serve two purposes.
1) Confirm that I was an adorable three year old. With the majority of the documented proof being on slides, this has often come up for debate.
2) Confirm that my mom looked amazing. When this picture was taken, my mom was 39 and the mother to three small children.
I’m 37 with just one kid, and I look like an extra from The Walking Dead.
I wish I could call her and ask her what her secret was. Among so many other things.