Writer Rebecca Fisk posted the most adorable picture of herself as a youngin’ to Twitter last week. The story that went along with it seemed like a perfect Trauma Llama tale. She was nice enough to write it up for me AND send along the photo. So you should be nice enough to like her on Facebook, follow her on Twitter, and check out her blog.


Here’s Rebecca’s Trauma Llama tale:

When I was in kindergarten, I had the ugliest dress in the world. It was a shapeless flour sack of a thing, drab green with random stripes of turquoise and other muddied hues. I absolutely loved it. I have no idea why- perhaps I had recently seen Annie and was pretending to be an unloved orphan, I don’t remember.

I wore the horrid dress to school almost every day for weeks. My mother deliberately chose not to pick a fight with me about it- she had grown quite wise about these things by the time I was 5. One day, the hem ripped and I found myself trailing a swath of material behind me. I was devastated, and I got the idea I should try to fix it with scissors, glue, and a stapler. I grabbed my mending supplies and headed to the tiny bathroom off the classroom.

My teacher came looking for me and discovered my attempts at mending the already ratty garment. The look on her face made it clear I was doing something strange, and I found myself uttering words of explanation before I could even plan them.

There may have been some fibbing on my part to the teacher, implicating my poor mother in some way. The details are fuzzy over that one.
I’m pretty sure the teacher called my mom in for a conference, no doubt wondering why I was wearing the same ratty dress over and over and trying to save it when it got even rattier. She presumably thought my poor mother was being neglectful and abusive or something, when truthfully, I was just a WEIRD KID! My mother was horribly embarrassed the teacher seemed to think SHE was the one dressing me in rags and I got yelled at quite thoroughly in the school hallway-to be fair, the yelling was more likely due to my probable fib that had implicated my mother in the first place than my mother’s embarrassment.

The dress was never seen again. I may have cried over it’s final demise. I’d mostly forgotten about it until my mother sent me this picture…

The lesson we must all learn here is obvious. Do not wear ugly clothes! Not in public anyways ๐Ÿ˜€

 

I still say it’s an adorable picture, ratty dress or not.

Do you have a Trauma Llama story you’d like to share? Prod me on Twitter or e-mail me anya at anyabreton.com ๐Ÿ™‚