I haven't done a tour through the old photos for a while. This might be fun.
Yep, I was one of those babies that arrived with a full head of hair. The bouffant was a popular hairstyle at the time, and on a lark my mum would tease-up my hair. For the next five decades (with a few exceptions) I wore my hair pretty much the same. "If it ain't broke, don't fix it" etc. etc.
Go ahead and smile kid, because this is the most even your bangs/fringe will ever be for the next fifty years. Enjoy them.
There's a Facebook page dedicated to the now closed camp. Kelly's was great fun. Tennis, swimming, arts and crafts inside when it rained-who could ask for more? It was a long-ish bus ride there and back each day, but completely worth it. I loathed overnight camp, but Kelly's was the best. The stay-over camp Birch Knoll was a living hell. Eight weeks sharing a cabin in the woods with rich suburban girls was not my idea of a good time. After a few weeks, I'd had enough and tried running away to the Indian Reservation down the road. I didn't make it. I was sent home by the camp. My parents were not pleased with me as they didn't get their money back. Birch Knoll wasn't cheap. I know it has been more than 40 years, but if the camp would like to issue me a refund, I'd be happy to take it, even in 1970's dollars.
Okay, mum got a bit carried away with trimming my hair and in an effort to "even it out" made it worse. We've all done that. By that time she was done with the diet pills so it was probably Valium. That looks like a Valium haircut to me. I'd still wear the shirt though-look at the great collar.
I would NOT wear this. THIS is what child abuse looks like. Anyone that knows me will tell you, I do not hug, unless cornered. I'm not a touchy-kinda person. It was around the same time the parents bought me a winter cap with the Tootsie Roll logo on it. Tootsie Roll. Yeah, that and "Hug Me" are the stuff childhood trauma are made of. My hair's shorter, but still mostly the same. The photo is on a Kodak version of a Polaroid. I'm guessing it was a promotional thing to have your picture taken and see how the technology worked. We did buy a knock-off style of camera (not sure if it was the Kodak) that you had to crank a handle for the photo to come out. It took terrible photos, and we discarded it in favour of a Kodak Instamatic that took 126 film and flash cubes. I still own that camera.
* Er...back to the cake...(Must be the current post-surgical pain, I don't typically sound that bitter)
... it looks shop-bought, that would have been a splurge. I'm sure it didn't come from anywhere fancy like Dinkels. Probably the Heinemann's Bakery in the Dominick's grocery. I would go shopping with my mother and admire all the plaster model cakes on the wall, knowing I'd never get the Cinderella cake with the moulded sugar paste carriage in the centre. I obsessed over that cake for many years, even briefly considering ordering one as a wedding cake in 1992. I didn't. I regret that almost as much as I regret marrying my first husband (see below).
All-right now, there's some 70's hair before punk.,,
Then I cut it REALLY short. I believe this photo was taken on the morning before 9/11. We'd just moved to Nebraska from Boston. We saw a plane being escorted by fighter jets fly over the farm. We later figured out it was Air Force One flying the President to Offutt Air Force Base. I've long since stopped colouring my hair, accepting that red just isn't my colour. I rather like my salt and pepper hair now, but I'm not promising I won't ever colour it again. Probably not red though.
Late nights making Easter eggs for Danny to wake up and find Easter morning. I think I might have been on a heavy dose of Prednisone there (kind of an on-going thing over the years) but hey, my hair looked great.
Eventually, the hair loss came back and got caught up with what it was missing whilst I was pregnant.
Wait, I said, "Hair" not, "Bear." Sorry for the misunderstanding.
Back to the present. Will I keep wearing it this way in my dotage? Probably. I'd prefer to age into a respectable weekly roller-set like my nanas did, but by the time I'm ready for that, all the hairdressers that remember how to do a roller set will be dead. It would be like trying to find someone to do Marcel waves today.
What about you? Are you one to radically change your hair over the years, or do you prefer the familiar?
*Really, I don't typically spend much time thinking about this stuff-must be the power of nostalgia and all the photos. There's hardly any point at my age, when anyone left to confront is already long dead. Let that serve as advice to you youngsters out there-get this stuff sorted when the parents are still around or you'll be blogging about it at three in the morning after oral surgery.