Sincerely ‘Fro Me to You-Bathing Beauty Part I

Okay, ya’ll.  I’m bringing out the big guns for the next three weeks of Sincerely ‘Fro Me to  You. If  you are new here, I apologize.  Don’t judge me on this, k?  Come back when I’m not um, brave.

And if you want to join in, you can grab the button for your page and read about it here
In honor of the end of summer, I decided to share some swim suit photos.  Around fifteen years old, I started reading Seventeen magazine.  I remember spending a lot of time perusing the pages whenever I could get my hands on one.  I was especially jealous enthralled with the swimsuit poses and models.  
And in a strange moment of self-confidence and insanity, I talked my sister into photographing me.  In my bathing suit.  Looking as sexy as possible.  
Three poses.  Three bathing suits.  For the next three weeks.  
Because I love to hear you laugh!
Let’s just take this in, shall we?
First of all, to my Mom’s credit the perming had ceased.
And this is one of the few times I wore long hair.  And after looking at it again, I’m pretty sure I’m supposed to have short hair.  
My family liked to call the roll of hair on my forehead a ‘dookie roll.”  Because they loved me. I would curl it tight and it would stay perfectly, um, rolled, all day.
The hair, the bathing suit, the muscles . . .
*updated to add* I’m not wearing hose, girls!  Mind-boggling, isn’t it?
Words fail me, ya’ll. Is this just awful or what? Link up and make sure you come back next week; I’m aiming for sultry and it only gets worse.
Promise.


Sincerely ‘Fro Me to You-The Most Memorable Birthday EVER!

Hi! Welcome to this week’s issue of Sincerely ‘Fro Me to You!  You can read along and enjoy everyone’s entries or you can play along.  Read about it here. And if you’re sneaking a peek from Feedburner, it might be worth it to go ahead and click on over. (I put this picture up for you, after all).
Do you ever look at a photo that captures a moment so completely that it takes your breath away?  
I stared at this photo for 12 minutes before I scanned it yesterday.
This is my 22nd birthday.
I’m wearing a gorgeous white poet’s gown,
Given to me by my hubby of exactly 42 hours.

Yes, this is my honeymoon.
I think the look on my face and my curled toes say it all.
The rest of this post? None ‘o yo beezwax!
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Sincerely ‘Fro Me to You-Space Invaders


Welcome to ‘Fro Me to You!  I’m glad you’re here.  If you want to join in, please read the guidelines here.
After about six months of marriage, my hubby and I moved to Arkansas and become Youth Pastors at a church.
We were newly graduated from Bible College and ready to take on the world. During those first two years, we experienced a full spectrum of situations, from dressing up in clown suits, weekly, to a nasty church split.
 
It was quite an odyssey.
Into space.
I am not kidding.
And so, this picture seems fitting of our first years in church work. This was our first Vacation Bible School.  We are aliens and, yes, that is half a volleyball on my hubby’s head and strangely, that looks like a perm in mine.  (When will I learn?)
We grew up a lot during that time:
I learned that some church people are mean. 
I learned that silver paint that says ‘washable’ isn’t necessarily.  
I learned that my hubby was the closest friend I would ever have. 
I learned that I didn’t learn everything in Bible College. 
I learned to laugh at myself. 
I learned to cry for others. 
And I learned that some people, are very good, even in bad situations.
Looking back nearly 15 years ago, I can say I also learned that you can leave full time ministry and carefully laid plans behind and have a better life than you ever imagined.
The Nester is offering one of my readers one of her beautiful handmade tassels from her Etsy shop right now on this post. If you haven’t had a chance to enter, go now!

Sincerely ‘Fro Me to You-The Fun Run

Hello!  Glad to have your here this week for Sincerely ‘Fro Me to You!  If you want to join in, please read guidelines here.

I have always had an athletic build.
Let me rephrase that.
I had an athletic build, before three pregnancies left me with a dumpy athletic build.
Don’t wait for the punch line.  Because I’m not joking.
As a kid, I was muscular.  I had large thigh muscles and defined calves.  I had a runner’s body.
The summer before the  seventh grade, I aspired to join the jr. high track team.
So, I signed up for the Summer Fun Run.
Because I thought it would be fun.
Did I mention that it was a 5 mile run and I had never even run a mile?
Yeah, that didn’t seem to be nearly as important as my outfit. Does Jane Fonda ring a bell?
I remember being very concerned about what I wore.  I coordinated my top and shorts to match my brand new little white canvas sneakers (the ones WalMart sells for like $3 bucks).  
The idea of support never once crossed my mind, until I actually started running.
And then that’s all I thought about. My legs ached, my feet cramped. And the blisters were unsightly.
I remember thinking, “Fun run? You’ve got to be kidding me.  What’s so fun about this?”
My parents and siblings followed me in the car, screaming out the window, “Go, Kristen!  You can do it!”
I was dying.  Surely, this was death.
I’m not sure how I finished the run, but I did, dead last.  I learned something very important that day.  
I was destined to be a sprinter.
And just because the word ‘fun’ is in the title, doesn’t mean it will be.
But this?  Laughing at all of you? Now, that is fun.  

Sincerely ‘Fro Me to You-Before the ‘Fro

Hi!  Welcome to Sincerely ‘Fro Me to You.  You can read about this madness here, if you want to link up.

I had darling hair at one time.
Before the perms. And the ‘fro.
It was soft and wavy.  I wore it in pig tails, which curled in wisps around my neck.
And then one day, I turned 8, my oldest daughter’s age.
I wanted a Dorothy Hamill haircut.  Because she was the best ice skater.
I went ice skating once on a school field trip and left with stitches.
At least I could look like Dorothy.
My mom and I returned from the salon and I felt very pretty.  Back then, short hair was rare.  
I am 8 1/2 in this school picture.  I’ve added some pink hair barrettes.
Because I’m fancy like that.
And that bit of hair sticking up?  Totally planned.
Actually, I spent years licking my finger and trying to make it lay down on the photograph.
That did not work for me, in case you’re wondering.
I re-discovered this photo the other day and couldn’t believe how much my 8 year old daughter looks like me. It’s uncanny.
I also wondered what in the world my mother was thinking with that pink outfit in the picture.  
The other night, I pulled out the photo and blamed asked her.  
I don’t remember her answer, because honestly?  There is no excuse.
I was a Dorothy Hamill look-alike (except for the outfit) for about a year before the home perm abuse began.
Fire away.

Sincerely ‘Fro Me to You-My Jane Fonda Moment

Welcome to this fun little weekly carnival of memories!  If you want to link up, you can read the guidelines here.

The last few weeks, I have played it safe with my ‘Fro posts. I’m not ashamed to reveal my overly permed hair or my scary polyester attire, I just wanted to give you a break.

From all the laughter.  And the mocking.

But I’m bringing back the smiles.  Just for you. Yes, I’m talking to you.  I know you’ve had a rough week.  I know you need a quiet moment to get away from the kids and laugh.  From the belly.

And so, I’m putting away my pride and I’m doing this just for you.  Because I care.

My Jane Fonda moment, sincerely ‘fro me.

I have no idea why I was dressed like this.  It wasn’t a costume party. I think that would make this easier to swallow. 

Oh no, I owned that getup and wore it every Saturday morning to watch televised gymnastics. I had an unnatural desire to be an Olympic gymnast.

I think my leg warmers were in the washer.  Too bad because they just made this outfit even more frightening.

I was in a gymnastics class as a young girl, but my dream was short-lived due to finances.  So, once I got into high school, I paid for lessons with my own money.  Yes, I was the big girl in the little girl class.

Sad, but true.  Even worse?  I wore this outfit!

Oh.  And I permed my hair, just for you.

Sincerely ‘Fro Me to You-The Ink Parlor

Welcome to Sincerely ‘Fro Me to You!  I’m so glad you stopped by.  If you want to link up, here are the guidelines.  If your visiting, jump right in!

These photos are from just a couple of weeks ago, but they will neh-vah make it into a scrapbook.  
Because I am ashamed.
This is what happens when you rush your toddler to the Emergency Room, ignore your older kids in the game room of a restaurant with spare quarters and let Grandparents bring them home.
and
Yes, those are lovely gumball tattoos. On my kid’s stomachs.  And I did not enlarge the picture. Oh, yes, giant tattoos of beasts.
I didn’t see them until the next day.  Can you just take a minute and imagine my horror?
Especially since they were going to the last day of VBS with water games, where my son’s tummy was fully exposed?
Yeah.  
I was so proud of his dragon.  I mean, look at that detail!
So was he.
My daughter had tattoo-regret and we scrubbed her tattoo until her flesh was red.  We quickly found out this was a quality tattoo.  
The kids really got their quarter’s worth.  We are all about value.

Sincerely ‘Fro Me to You-Not Meant to Be A Cook

Hi, welcome to this week’s edition of ‘Sincerely ‘Fro Me to You!  You can read about the guidelines here if you want to link up and grab the ‘fro button.
I ran across this picture, taken around Christmas, of me at ‘my desk’ also known as, my kitchen counter.  That got me thinking about my use of my kitchen, in general.
And specifically about this fact:  Just because I love food, doesn’t mean I enjoy preparing it.
I feel so much better about confessing that.
Some of my favorite memories involve the yummiest of dishes that I did not prepare.

Cooking does not come naturally to me.  I don’t have auto measurements programmed into my brain. 
I do not watch cooking shows.  
I do not say “Bam” when I throw spices into my food.

I do not own an apron, although I think they are pretty.  (I’m sorry Apron Queen ,I hope we can still be friends).
I am not meant to be a cook.
Oh, I cook. Often.  But in an effort to be transparent, I would call it more of a heat and stir method.  
The word ‘cook’ is really a compliment and a stretch, at best.
If I had to recall a homemade recipe from memory, it would include a can of this and a frozen bag of that.
My specialty would be Texas Chili, which I make up with whatever I have on-hand, but is surprisingly spicy and tasty. But just the phrase my speciality in reference to my cooking, makes me cackle.  
Loudly.
But my chili makes people think I can cook.  And that’s just fine with me.

I let my hubby cook whenever he wants to, which is usually when I say we’re having grilled cheese.
Now, baking?  That’s a different category entirely.  I somewhat enjoy baking because of the results if produces.  I love cakes and cookies and pies (I think that covers all the baking categories).
So, do my thighs.
Once, I bought a store-bought casserole and put it in my own casserole dish for a church function.  

Shame will do that to you, people.
I consider my microwave a dear friend.
I’ve burned myself so often that I keep a stick of butter nearby just for such instances.  Nothing like being prepared or serving that stick by mistake.  Oh, I kid, about serving it.
I was asked to contribute family recipes to our Family Reunion Cookbook.  I racked my brain for hours and every recipe I came up with involved a can good.  I sent them in.  This wasn’t even embarrassing until I started packing for the Reunion.
We had just renovated our kitchen in the picture. The granite is black and tan speckled.  The cabinets are black with sanded edges to make it look aged.  The walls are a deep mustard color and the cafe curtains (one of my favorite parts) are barn red and mustard.  
You would think this color and renovation would inspire me.
Oh, and it does.  I do some of my best mundane blogging on that granite.
I’m a smart girl and I can read, like on a third grade level.  So it’s not so much that I cannot cook, I’m just not meant to be one.
I’d like to thank Happy Mommy for inspiring me with this post after she tagged me with a cooking meme.  Check hers out here.  She’s a real cook.
Now, it’s your turn to share ‘fro you to me!