I was going through some old photo albums when I stumbled across this one from my desperate, elderly cougar Match.com profile phase sixth grade school portrait. I literally had to squeeze my thighs together in an effort to keep pee from erupting from my vag.  I had completely forgotten about this photo and my vagina was struck with so much laughter, fear, disgust, remorse and humility that its first instinct was to expel all of its distilled contents.  All kidding aside, this is a serious problem I have.  If I laugh too hard, whether in public, on a roller coaster or while sharing a bath with a handsome millionaire, you can bet I’m peeing.  All signs point to a future of incontinence so I need to ramp up my kegel exercises now. 

I forgot about my awkward, middle aged Hunchback of Notre Dame phase that started at the cusp of my adolescence and lasted until my senior year of high school.  Am I wearing a wig in this picture? Did I steal those glasses from a distinguished English butler?  Did Will Smith let me raid his Fresh Prince of Bel Air wardrobe for my outfit? Can I do the Carlton dance?  The answer to all those questions is yes.