I was going through my photos, looking for some pictures of me and my dad to spice up this blog post. I came to the realization that my dad and I don’t take all that many photos together. I told him today I think that’s partially because we’re very sensitive about the way we look in photographs. We both have round faces, and they only get waaaaay rounder when you’re smiling. We also do this weird thing where if we’re laughing really hard (or smiling really big) we get this really cute line of gum that shows. So pretty much, if we take a picture together where we’re both smiling, it’s like everything we don’t enjoy about ourselves photogenically multiplied by two.
Or at least that’s my theory.
I have a great dad. He can really do anything, and has led me to seriously over-estimate the abilities of the men around me on more than one occasion.
My dad will take my calls anytime he can, knowing that he’s probably about to listen to me say the same thing I’ve been upset about for a while as I cry for possibly an hour.
Dad has always given me his support, always. I do tend to come to my parents with big choices (or let’s face it, small choices) for advice, but no matter what I’ve never left a conversation feeling like I wouldn’t have my dad rooting in my corner, whatever my choice.
It isn’t fair to brag, I know. But fare is what you pay to get on a bus, so I’m very sorry if it’s not nice but my dad is really the best.
I have always been a daddy’s girl. I love my mom, and my relationship with her has grown and become so wonderful as I’ve matured and been able to appreciate all that she’s done and continues to do. But, my dad’s the one who would’ve gotten me the pony I wanted if my mom hadn’t said no.
So, sorry ’bout it mom. Should’ve gotten me a pony.
Since I shared that super cute picture of my mom’s perm for my mother’s day post, I figured it was only fair to also share my dad’s:
Although his is of course au natural.
And he passed that sucker straight on down to me. Thanks bunches daddy.