Wednesday, February 04, 2009

Mortified: Hair Edition

I heard a podcasted essay today about someone's experiences in a dance team in high school - an experience she now looks back upon with some mortification.

I pretty much had it all together in high school (as long as you don't look too closely at the photographs where I'm wearing my favorite fire-engine-red jumpsuit, and my senior picture which looks as if I am trying to get some shut-eye), but it was a different story in junior high.

Yes, in junior high, I was not the doyenne of taste you know and love today (today's fashion tip: dig my new pants made entirely out of teddy bear pelts). I was flailing - socially, physical-educationally, and coiffurely - and made some unfortunate fashion and hair choices.

One that springs to mind is a hairstyle I sported for a few months when I was maybe 12 or 13 - it was like a wedge haircut, only with the wedge part all curled up. It was a style that started at Dorothy Hamill and took a startling turn into Bozo. I, however, thought I looked hot, hot, hot.

I remember walking with my best friend, Sally, down the shoulder of an out-of-town road one summer during vacation and counting the number of honks we got from passing cars. At the time, we thought we were turning some major man-heads with our Lolita-style beauty, but looking back, we might have just been causing fits of hysteria, which in turn caused hands to slap uncontrollably on their horns.

And no, I do not believe there is any photographic evidence of this hairstyle. My parents, wisely, focused the lens on other things until I came to my senses.

My mind is on hair today because a week after getting another expensive hair cut, my hair is back to its natural, 70's hair band ways, and I'm this close to getting my pixie back on.

Pixie to the people, bitches.

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