Proudly Rocking the Same Hairdo (More or Less) since the 60's

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.

 "Oh no, mummy's hepped-up on diet pills again. I think I'll stay out here on the front steps until the storm blows over."

 "...still blowing, but it is a nice day, I can wait."

 Go ahead and smile kid, because this is the most even your bangs/fringe will ever be for the next fifty years. Enjoy them.

Around this time my mother put down the scissors (praise be to god-you should have seen my sister's pixie cut) and my hair started growing longer.

 Longer...

 ...loooooonger...

 ...and finally, "full hippie", complete with bright pink trousers. I don't remember the guitar, but I do remember the Mickey Mouse phonograph. Wish I still had it. After seeing this photo blown up on the computer, Danny was able to determine we still own the ceramic dog figurine on the left of the piano. He's since relocated it back to the same spot for historical accuracy!

Still wearing my hair more or less the same. My hair was quite black-the reddish tint is the film.

 A birthday, probably mine. What you can't see in the photograph is the wallpapered side of the kitchen. This was after a recent renovation and the fashion was for oversized floral wallpaper. It was all very 60's. Out the window was an apartment building that was built after my parents bought our place. The kitchen "view" was a brick wall. The second floor "view" was a man that frequently forgot to pull the curtains as he was er...pulling something else. His window faced my parents bedroom, and they finally had to install heavy shades and curtains that remained unopened until we moved in 1978. I'm sure the new homeowners were delighted with the "view". Anyway, after the building went up the kitchen went from a sunny room to quite a dark one, so my mother went bright orange decor to combat the gloom.

 

I tried out braids (and cheerleading) but didn't like either, and instead took to hanging out in back of the newsagent's playing the pinball machine (true). But hey, pom-poms! 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.

Back to the parade of hair.

 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.

Oh look, a Birthday cake I probably wasn't allowed to eat. I was a sick kid pumped full of tonnes of steroid medications and my mother knew full well it wasn't due to anything I was eating. It didn't stop her putting me on a years long starvation diet that screwed up everything from my spine to my immune system, and caused me infertility issues, without ever losing any real weight. I'm living with the consequences of extreme malnutrition and serious neglect to this day. Growing children can't live on 500-800 calories a day. Brittle bones, teeth,  and a messed-up-for-life metabolism-thanks Mum and Dad! I'm glad you had money to fix my sister's nose because you thought she'd never marry if you didn't,  but decided to ignore my scoliosis. I think of you every time I take a photo from my left, not my right so I don't look like Richard III.

* 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.,,

...and after. I dyed it the glossiest blue-black I could find and got a perm. Still, aside from the colour and the waves it is pretty much the same hairdo. I'd spike it out with Tenax gel and Ivory soap flakes on a whim (the classic punk hair styling recipe), but I don't have any photos. I also don't have any photos of my hair platinum which is probably just as well.

 Passport photo from the 80's. They told me to brush my hair out of my eyes, so I did without thinking I'd have to live with this photo for the next ten years. Lesson learned. Super-skinny eyebrows are another lesson learned.

 I wish I could say I remember any of these people from University, but I don't. Except Daffy Duck. I remember him. I think this was taken at Six Flags Amusement Park in St. Louis.

This photo was, "AD". After Dysentery. I was about 23. The shirt I'm in was something I bought in the children's department at Field's. I have a funny amoebic dysentery story (doesn't everyone?) but I'll save that for another time. Still wearing my hair the same. Actually, it is a crazy-funny dysentery story because no one picks up an amoeba in my family without a bit of craziness ensuing.

I beat the dysentery! Body changed, hair didn't. That's actually a wig, but even the wig is in my typical style. Yes, I wore a wig to the beach-I wasn't going to actually swim, you know! Wish I still had that swimsuit. I also wish I wasn't so damn hell-bent on sunbathing (look at that tan). I'm paying for it today. Also, younger self, can we talk? Stop holding in your guts, you're not fooling anyone and no one gives a toss about how you look in a swimsuit anyway. The photo was taken by a boyfriend who obviously didn't care.

Ah, finally some proper 80's hair. This is moussed, dyed ash blonde, and a look I hope never to return to again. Santa approves though. I know you're probably wondering WTF is going on here, but that's between me and Santa. What happens at the mall, stays at the mall.

Wedding #1. Couture evening gown made-to-order by Jimmy Gamba, flowers that cost more than a month's rent, and six months later it was over. I like to think of it as a very long, bad date.

Wedding #2. Got hitched at the courthouse in a vintage dress that cost about ten dollars. The hat came from my neighbour. It was, "Juvenile Court Day" and we sat on a bench waiting our turn as handcuffed and shackled teens filed past on their way to the courtroom. We later found out a wild party had been busted the previous weekend and the shackles were a sort of, "Scared Straight" bit of show. The court supervisor thought it would be awkward to get married in front of all those surly teens, so they opened another courtroom just for us. We pulled a secretary and a driver's exam employee away from their work to be witnesses. In hindsight, it might have been fun to have the big public ceremony with all the teenagers. It was surreal being in a giant, empty, dark courtroom (it is a turn-of-the-century building with lots of wood paneling and stained glass) getting hitched. The dog stayed home.

 The 2000's with a Nokia phone clipped to my jeans. And yes, the name of the import store behind me is indeed, "Happy Bang." The hair is messy, but still about the same. Side part, from the looks of it. "Happy Bang" Heh, heh.

 Chimney Rock, Nebraska. It has since lost a bit more of the chimney due to a lightning strike. The sign to my right is warning to stay on the sidewalk as the area is infested with rattlesnakes. I had my hair dyed a magenta red. I'd do that again, but I'm not sure I'd wear a suede halter top these days. Well, yeah, maybe I would.

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. 

 Pregnancy made my hair grow like mad, and for a few years after Danny was born I wore my hair long. Eventually that came to an end, and it started thinning out again but for a few years in the mid-2000's I had great hair. I'm wearing a corsage, so I'll guess this was Mother's Day. At that age it took both hands getting the kid to stand still for a photo.

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.