This is from my sophmore year of high school. I'm the one on the lower left who looks about 10 years old. I'd chopped my hair from waist length to this - this - this - whatever this is right here.
I LOVED IT.
(See my friend on the right there? She had naturally curly hair and OH how I envied it. (Although looking at this picture, I'm not sure why. She looks completely insane.)
Next followed several years of longer hair with sticky-uppy bangs but unfortunately I can't find that photo album. Rest assured that my hair was a fine testament to the combined power of Aquanet and a blow dryer.
I then went with The Bob for a while before switching enthusiastically to The Mushroom (aka The Salad Bowl).
This is one of my engagement photos. I believe it is probably the most literal interpretation of The Salad Bowl that has ever been seen - before or since. (I am not entirely sure WHY we are standing in a tree, and YET THE FACT REMAINS. We are standing in a tree. Our photographer was a GENIUS.)
Here's another one. Love how I'm rockin' the white sport socks and black shoes. (I have always been incredibly stylish, tis true.)
Here's a snapshot from my wedding day. Notice the wedding veil comb thingy sticking out from my veil? In every single picture taken that day, the clip is prominently featured. I don't know why someone didn't tuck the dang thing in already. But I suppose it is sort of apt, considering my penchant for walking around with tags hanging off of my clothing, zippers undone, and mismatched shoes. It would've been sort of fraudulent to appear totally together in my wedding pictures, don't you think?
I should note that it didn't even occur to me that I should have someone do my hair or make-up for me on My Special Day. I just woke up an hour before we were supposed to be there, brushed it a few times and figured - hey - it would be covered up by my veil anyway. (See? You see the many levels of fashion and beauty obliviousness we're talking about here?)
The mushroom cut in Technicolor. I'm not sure why I thought this was attractive. I look like a thirteen year old boy. (As does my husband.)
I like to call this one Vampires Having Fun With Barrettes.
(Good grief. I am practically translucent.)
I have bajillions more, but I think have reached my Traumatic Hair Disclosure Limit for the day.
Have I helped you to feel better about yourself today? Comparatively at least? I HOPE SO.
And now I will go, but before I do, I will leave you with this uncomfortable little gem from last year.
I like to call it THE RETURN OF THE MUSHROOM.