Tripping down memory lane: Valley of the Dolls and 10-year old romance trauma drama

To be fair, the tallest stack of boxes is the Goodwill pile and not
crap I’ve neglected for almost a decade.

You know what’s worse than packing? Unpacking. You know what’s worse than unpacking? Sifting through untouched boxes circa 2003 to make room for the new boxes that need attention. Fun. Times.

When I ventured into the garage last week to make a dent in my piles-o-crap, the evidence of my packrat nature overwhelmed me. For awhile, I seriously contemplated chucking boxes into the trash unopened. If I haven’t examined the innards for 8+ years, do I really need them?

After spending several hours sorting (with many, many more yet to go), I’m so glad I didn’t go the easy route. I wouldn’t want you to miss this hilarious and also terrifying look into my 10-year old psyche.

Along with notes, pictures, scraps of paper and ribbon, very small rocks, every elementary school achievement award ever given, diaries with crinkly yellow pages, dance programs held together by rusty staples, melted and misshapen candles, and several choice Pez dispensers, I found dolls. And not just any dolls–porcelain dolls from the early 90s. Evidence of a strange hobby, albeit one that didn’t seem so creepy at the time.

A couple seem like collector’s items at least according to the documentation and accompanying serial numbers tattooed on the back of their necks.
I’m sure the creep factor is upped for me thanks to an episode of Criminal Minds last season where the unsub made dolls out of real women. Quality television programming, I tell you.
My first doll. Terrifying, yes?
Bought when I was going through a Gone with the Wind phase I think.
Ahhhhhhhhhh, the painted on eyelashes!

My favorite find was not the dolls, however, but a “love note” that I penned to someone named “Dan” in the fifth grade. When I first found it, I cringed a bit, having no recollection of Dan or the contents of the letter. Rather than explain though, I’ll let photos do the talking.

Hearts and pink ink, naturally.
Gag. SWAK? Seriously fifth-grade Shawna?
Digging the probably-stolen-from-my-mother hot pink lipstick
I found the letter unopened. Change of heart?
Strong declarative sentences for a 10-year old. Need to work on my transitions though.
Undying love, jewelry and a bonus!
Lifted the flap and couldn’t stop laughing! 10-year-old me is pretty funny.

As you can see, I cultivated my flare for the dramatic from an early age. Given the unsent nature of the letter, I’m guessing the only broken heart in this scenario was mine. Sniff.

I’m headed back into the garage this morning. I’ll keep you posted on any more hilarious or terrifying finds.

What’s the strangest/funniest/creepiest thing you’ve ever found when tripping down memory lane?

xoxo,
shawna

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