We had Twin Day at school this week. My housemate Aubre and I went as eighties college students. We bought the cardigans secondhand, happened to find the silvery disco-esque headbands at a random little magazin (shop), and made up the rest from our household's combined wardrobes. To achieve the hair effect, I had to sacrifice sleep the night before on the altar of tons of little braids in my hair and endure my hair being teased and hair-sprayed to a large and in-your-face death in the morning.
The kids were flabbergasted. Jawdropped. Bamboozled.
One six year old girl whom I love dearly misunderstood my explanation of what I was, and later in the day, amused me muchly by announcing to someone else that she knew what I was: I was eighty. (I did clarify with her that eighty year olds do not generally look like that, and that I had been talking about a time period long before she first graced the earth. I didn't say 'graced the earth', of course; I said 'born'. I think she kind of got it by the end.)
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