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November 22, 2006

My Hairstory: The Final Chapter

When we last left off, our hairoine (HAHAHA!!! HAIRoine!! Yeah I may have been drinking when I came up with that gem) was sporting one somewhat poufy flat-top haircut, a move that may not seem particularly daring in this day and age when young people do things like "hard drugs" and also "try to be Paris Hilton and make a sex tape with kids from their 9th grade Spanish class," but trust me. When I was 13 and living way out on the bayou, it was a big deal.

My parents saw the demonic gleam in my eye of pure, unadulterated rebellion. They sighed. Then they said, "Well, she has always been a little different..." "Unusual!" "A real original, that is for sure." My father said, "Let the girl do what she wants to her hair. It's her hair...." My brothers said, "You're a dumbass!" and sometimes, "Oh my God, sis, what the (bleep) did you do to your HAIR?"

And the thing about a poufy flat-top? It grows out. Really fast. Especially if you have freakishly fast-growing hair anyway. But at first it wasn't too bad:

hairstory3-1.jpg

In fact, my fashion was worse than my hair. I kind of thought I had a Nick Rhodes thing going and since I was secretly planning to marry Nick Rhodes when he finally came to Middle Of Nowhere, Louisiana looking for me, BECAUSE I LOVED HIM THAT MUCH, anyway ... I was okay with my no-longer-flat-top.


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But then... ya'll know.
My hair got as bad as my fashion REALQUICKLIKE.
hairstory3-2.jpg

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Now, I'm posting this next picture just because it may be the funniest get-up I (or anyone on the planet) has ever deemed "fashionable" and also "worthy to wear in public while thinking I AM SO HOT." Hee hee. I saved allowance for WEEKS for this outfit! That is an ESPRIT bag, people, genuine cloth ESPRIT! Notice I am also rocking the partial side-ponytail:

hairstory3-3.jpg

As you can see, I was all about the fashion.


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But I was at a crossroads from a hair perspective. What could I do with my basically normal, wavy bob? I mean, sure, I had the side ponytail with colored scrunchie to jazz things up. I had my pegged jeans and colored Converse and thirty-two pairs of socks on over my pants legs, but what could I possibly do to make myself even MORE FETCHING?


PERHAPS A WHITE GIRL 'FRO?

hairstory3-fro.jpg
Yeah. That is the only existing picture of this hairstyle, taken on the day I got the actual perm. Three days later, I washed my hair and I lost all my beautiful curls. I cried. I moussed to no avail. I cried some more. How could I ever make my hair truly incredibly glorious?


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And the answer, darling innernets, was clear:

hairstory3-mohawk1.jpg


The side-part mohawk. My greatest accomplishment in Freaking Out The Parents. God, I was so cool. I was so awesome. I was ... so grounded.

After I managed to get un-grounded, I found my way back to the very person who had helped me with the side-mohawk bob, and we remastered it for Version Two: The asymmetrical side-part mohawk bob.

hairstory3-mohawk2.jpg

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Of course, as time went by, my hair began to grow out, my summer dragged on, and suddenly I woke up and realized that as much as I loved my crazyhair, it would not ever win me the affections of one Martin Daniel, who I was Now In Love With and Must Marry.

So, all summer I let my hair grow and ditched my SO SO COOL neon pastel clothes in an effort to become Pretty, and also, Mrs. Martin Daniel. At this time in the South, it was very important to have big hair (or at least a big wall of bangs) to be considered Pretty. I practiced in my bathroom with a curling iron and a can of Aquanet until flies were literally stuck in mid-air. My family coughed dramatically each time they passed the bathroom door, but deep down inside you know they were happy because perhaps we had at least reached the end of the WHAT THE HELL HAS SHE DONE TO HER HAIR?? years.

Achieving greatness in the bangs department was really hard for my small, flat, pathetically straight hair. I began with the side-wall bangs:

hairstory3-highschool3.jpg
Check out the acid washed skirt! Hot!


Eventually moved on to the Basic Front Curl:
hairstory3-highschool4.jpg
(You know my parents were like, "She wants another watch for her birthday? Fine. It'll be dead in an hour. Serves her right. Throwing away money. Kids these days..." etc. etc.)


Got some leverage on the Updraft:
hairstory3-highschool5.jpg

AQUA NET, how I loved thee. Sorry, Ozone layer.

Discovered hot rollers for the sides:
hairstory3-highschool6.jpg
Hi, blue eyeshadow!

And finally, after years of hard work, I made it in the Wall O'Bangs world:

hairstory3-nirvana.jpg


And so concludes my Hairstory. That inpenetrable mountain of hair fabulosity was to this day the hardest and also most rewarding thing about high school. On a good day I was closer to heaven... on a bad day (read: rain) I would literally cry in anguish. I carried a butane curling iron with me everywhere I went. I had travel-size cans of hairspray in every strength lining the shelves of my locker, my vanity at home and the glove compartment of my car. I carried a pick, a teasing comb and a brush. I was perhaps more committed to that hair than any other thing either before or since.

Since reaching the dizzying heights of greatness in my bangs, it's all been downhill in the hair department. Boring, basic, straight, blunt-cut hair. It takes approximately 1/1000th of the time to style my hair these days, and for that I should be thankful. But you know deep-down inside I kind of miss my big bangs. Just a teensy little bit.

Happy Thanksgiving, ya'll! Hug the family, eat some turkey and stay away from the AquaNet! And if you just can't keep away from the spray, be sure to at least take some really embarrassing pictures... for posterity's sake.

Posted by laurie at November 22, 2006 11:06 AM