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November 20, 2006

My Hairstory: The Early Years

Obviously, the early years of my personal hairstory are the best years, because kids are kind of cute even when they're ugly, and because I can blame all early hair transgressions on my parents. Blame is a powerful and liberating thing. Let's get started!


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As a child, you can see I was unusual not only for my fabulousness in the highchair department, but also because my eyes were far too big for my head, and my head was far too big for my body. And for a baby, I have to say I was a little on the serious side. In this picture it looks like I'm about to launch forth on a lecture about the unfairness of subjecting children to strained peas, or perhaps my perspective on the energy crisis. I was weird from Day One. But my hair: cute!

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The Pigtail Years began in earnest once my hair was actually long enough to enclose in rubber bands. My family LOVED PIGTAILS. They must have thought that the whimsy and cuteness would offset my still very droll, serious expressions. My head hasn't gotten any smaller, either. Also: My brother Guy appears to be channeling Timothy Leary in his Haight-Ashbury height of popularity. Could we be any more different?


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I tried to break free of the pigtail as often as possible.


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Yet my family was determined that I should be bepigtailed at all times. I love this picture of me and my brother ... at this stage in our lives, I was cuter and I plan to berate him with this for the rest of our days. It doesn't make up for the fact that he was Studly Mc HotOne in high school while I had braces and a bad perm, but whatever.


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Then... there was an incident. A really sad, tragic incident involving me and bubble gum and the wind, more photographic evidence of which can be found here. In this photo I am not only as country as you can get, I also look like a boy who's just gone fishin' for supper. But if you think that's bad... just imagine how I must have smelled. Kids!


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Then when my hair grew out, the goddamn pigtails returned. Also, note to my parents who I love and adore ... I would like to say NICE JOB ON THE HAIR BARETTES THERE. My therapy bill will be in the mail this week. Love ya'll!


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As the awkward pre-teen years approached, I managed to somehow be basically normal-looking for a period of several years, rocking some variation of this look:

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As you can see, my brother has improved in cuteness. If only I had known then what I know now, that he would become a chick magnet and I would become ... well, terrified of magnets, what with the 37 tons of metal in my mouth. Whatever. Anyway, I would braid my hair at night when it was wet to give it a little body. Notice the super-cool side ponytail braids... my signature touch!

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Then my mom discovered the "body wave." I still preferred collecting rocks and crawfish to getting my hair did. I was kind of a tomboy. The eighties hadn't reached all the way out to the bayou yet....


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... AND THEN THE LONG ARM OF THE CURLY PERM CAME TO TOWN. Also, so did glitter blue eyeshadow. I don't know what I'm doing in this picture, but probably I am contemplating what would be the last semi-decent hairstyle I would have for about ten years.

And thus concludes today's hairstory. Stay tuned for tomorrow's Hairstory which includes dramatic brace-face, sun-in gone horribly wrong and the she-mullet! I'll be bringing Paxil for those of you with 80s Hair Related Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder. My brother won't need it, of course. Stupid butterfly-emerging-from cocoon brother. THANKS A LOT.

Posted by laurie at November 20, 2006 12:03 PM