Eighth Grade Graduation

8th Grade Graduation
Here I am on my wedding day. Just kidding. I’m challenging myself to find photos where my sister makes a goofy expression. This one is classic. I can hear my dad behind the camera now, “Erin, don’t make such a goofy face.”

Those yellow t-shirts were our middle school band uniforms. I still have mine — I think. I’d run and look but I don’t feel like getting up right now. If I find it, and I can fit into it, I’ll have Bob take a picture and post it later. Something to look forward to.

The actual occasion of this photo was my 8th grade graduation. Why that event requires a fancy (but very sweet) dress only to be worn once and a crown of roses and baby’s breath is beyond me but I remember thinking I was looking pretty sharp.

Meanwhile, back in the present, my appetite is all wonky. I’m not very hungry. Not very many things sound good and when I finally do sit down to eat, I fill up quick. I don’t think this is a problem. I don’t feel unhealthy. It’s just a surprise that the woman who used to be able to shovel down a half a loaf of bread slathered with a bucket of peanut butter in the morning before stopping at the Arbor (little food shack near the library at UCSB) to pick up my ginormous bran muffin (this was all before 9am), would now find herself thinking: oh, I should probably eat something. Then eating a banana and not being hungry again until 3pm.

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