Mug Shots

I'm off to the Post Office this morning to mail off our passport applications. Don't you know we'd plan our Africa trip to coincide not only with the month our passports expire, but with the expiration of our yellow fever shots, too.

Ten years since our last passport photos. It's scary how much we've changed in the last ten years. The hubby, of course, looks better than ever. He's more chiseled, less awkward. He's lost the mustache and the monstrous glasses and has trimmed his hair back to a manageable length.

I, on the other hand, am not improving. I've got the baggy eye thing going on, I've added glasses, and I've got the worse hairstyle of my life. And let's not even talk about the weight difference.

I hate getting my picture taken. Hate. It. But I've reached a point where I realize I'm not going to look any better in next year's picture or the year's after that. This is probably the best I'm ever going to look. Might as well record it now.