Back in Black
For at least a good year, there exist no pictures of me wearing an actual color. I lived entirely in black.
I wasn’t one of those goth people. I didn’t wear black lipstick or white face paint.
I was just in black – always.
School, clubs, dances, church, my sister’s wedding shower and rehearsal dinner – all black.
And all with combat boots.
Again, let me repeat that I wasn’t a goth.
I’m not sure what inspired this.
My love of weird music? A Sweet Valley High book?
Whatever it was, I was all ‘Hey let’s listen to Jane’s Addiction and dress like we’re funeral bound!’ for way too long.
As you can see, it’s a very flattering color for a girl with my skin tone:
And I look nothing like a mime here:
Oh good – here’s a glimpse of the boots:
That was apparently my favorite dress, because I’m not sure I ever took it off for at least a 6-month span. I’ve been photographed in it all over the country, from my sister’s wedding rehearsal (where she was none too pleased that my boots made an appearance) to church to dances… it was my little black dress that wasn’t so little.
{You might recognize some of these people. They’re famous now.}
Even more pathetic unusual is that I appear to be wearing the same necklace with the same dress in all of these pictures. Not too creative, apparently.
You know, when you find what works and all. Don’t mess with perfection.
Yeah, black is definitely the way for a milky white girl to go. A walking study in contrasts.
Especially with an overdose of hair.
You cannot even see detail on my face because I am so pale. I actually reflect light.
What would really finish this off beautifully would be if I had pictures of some of my other go-to looks. Like cutoff Daisy Dukes, worn with black fishnets and combat boots (natch). Or when I dyed green streaks in my hair. Or the purple, red, and blue ones. Or when I pulled it all up into a ponytail, and shaved off the lower part.
You know, like this
I was a weird girl.
But not as weird as the guy I dated once, who sported a mohawk like this
And I mean literally once, because when my dad met him. Well. That was the end of that.
I believe a direct quote would involve something about ‘ripping that earring right out of your ear, son’ and possibly a shotgun.
Come to think of it, that guy could have gone in my Bad Judgment post too.
I’d like to say that I’m older and wiser now…but somehow I’m afraid I’m just older.
And PS) I still love black. Some things never change.
Edit – last minute addition – I almost forgot about these. A chorale concert, I think, and my mom tried so hard to get a decent picture of me.
It wasn’t working though – you can barely see a glimpse of my face at the corner of the music stand.
A little closer, but nope, still covered.
But at least she can snap one of me when I walk down the aisle!
Sadly, no – I looked the other way, and I stuck out my tongue.
‘You with the tongue Heather. Why is your tongue always hanging out?‘
Sorry Mom. I blame MJ.
And since I know you are wondering, yes, actually I was wearing the black dress [and combat boots] under the black robe. Why wouldn’t I be?














































































