Horrors of childhood

I was looking through some old photos of me yesterday, showing Girl Terror what I looked like. Aside from the fact that she thinks all the pictures are of her, she was thrilled. Anyway. I started noticing the clothes. Oh, the clothes. I grew up in the 70's, but that's really no excuse! Did someone really think that the polyester knit floor length navy dress needed to have what looks like a huge red Christmas ribbon bow stuck on the chest? And did I just not own any pants that were a solid colour? I found one shot of me wearing what I remember was my favorite dress. I called it my "watermelon dress". Are you horrified yet? It was green and brighter green plaid, with a strand of brilliant fushia woven in. To complete the look, I had matching fushia tights. Remember folks, I have RED hair. I looked like a lime jelly bean that someone set on fire, from both ends.
When the Terrors grow up, are they going to be scarred by seeing pictures from their childhood? I admit, my fashion sense is non-existent. Any time someone says the kids look cute, I have to admit that Grandma Beth sent the outfit. It's never something I picked. Maybe that's it. My childhood wardrobe robbed me of all fashion sense, which explains a lot about my closet today.