I mentioned this picture once before, but here it is in all its glory. My flower lion hair. I thought I was so damn cool. Returning to my faerie roots. Obviously obviously everyone would HAVE to believe me when I told them I was not for this ordinary life, when they saw how willingly the flowers twined in my tresses. Once they witnessed how naturally I flitted through the sylvan world never again would I be forced to sully my hands with the washing up. I was made for finer pursuits!
You laugh. But I really believed that. My inner ten-year-old right this very minute is arguing that the proof of my fay nature is the fact that the camera could not capture the reality of my appearance. I did not really look this, this (god, is there even a word for this?), NO! I was magnificent, just too magnificent for this mortal plane. So there!
And if you're wondering about the glasses, yes, you're right. My grandma picked them out. She said they were all the rage. She said it just that way, too. "All the rage." Which should have clued me in on the fact that she didn't know what she was talking about. but I was only 10 or 11 and I wasn't that street smart. Of course, she was probably just saying that because there were only 5 children's frames to pick from on the "discount" table which were the only frames my parents could afford. I cannot even tell you how many times I managed to "lose" those bad boys. Oh, and that orangie-brown splotch off to the right of my head? Vintage chili sauce. Or spaghetti sauce. Or something else food-related. But definitely NOT the glow surrounding one of the lesser fay. Unfortunately.