A hairy past

Just because one of my goals in life is to bring JOY to Courtney’s world (it’s sort of like payment for the yummy cookies she mails to me, really), I present to you — for your viewing entertainment — a collection of photos that showcases my hairy past.

Now, put down that glass of whatever it is you’re drinking, click on the thumbnails below and go have yourself a hearty giggle, snicker or guffaw on me. It’s okay. I’m over it.

Puppies think long hair is good for ONE THING: tugging! When I was 8 years old (1987), Mom would throw my mane into a ponytail and I’d hang out in the front yard for hours. Flash forward to 1990. I’m eleven, it’s Christmas and I’d just received my first puppy, a yellow lab named Dawn. This is from the Pocahontas Braid Chronicles, a 3-year span of my life where I didn’t know what to do with all my hair so it got pulled back into a single plait EVERY DAY. It wasn’t that I lacked a desire for another ‘do… I simply lacked arm strength and patience.

Perfect Example #52 of why some stupid boys used to call me “snake.” That is one thick mother of a braid, no? And that fine bird you see is… (wait for it…) Dots-a-Lot. Yes, I’m drying him off with a hair dryer after giving him a bath, and Yes, I was influenced by WPGC 95, a local radio station playing the tunes of such fine musicians as Sir Mix-a-Lot, SWV, Boys II Men and Wreckx-N-Effect. Oh yeah. I also placed my prize-winning chickens into the County Fair, but more on that later…

This next shot is priceless: the three Amber women (Jaci, Mom and I) all waiting to see Old Faithful do her timely sulfur exhaust during a stop in Yellowstone National Park on a car trip out to California. If my hair wasn’t in a braid, it would look like my sister’s hair. And yes, I am wearing a Hypercolor t-shirt that changes from pink to white when exposed to body heat. Part of me wishes I still had one of those shirts… Great way to draw attention to the girls, if you know what I’m sayin’…

I wondered if I should include this picture, and then figured, “Oh hell, why not?” From November 1992, this image showcases the damage I used to do at the County Fair every year. My hair is still acres long, but I’d cut it (see the following photo) and learned to part it on the side. Go skillz! Now, let us get a few things straight:

1) That’s my Holland Lop, Sweetie. I entered her in the fair and also did Rabbit Showmanship with her. Yes, there is such a thing and Yes, apparently I’m the biggest dork ever.
2) It’s been re-matted and framed, but I still have that large Championship-winning photograph of the Columbia River Gorge (it’s on the mantel behind me, with the blue matting). It’s now hanging in my living room, and from the last frame of a roll of film on my Dad’s old Olympus 35mm, it’s still one of my favorite images.
3) Yes, on either side of me there is both a Halloween-themed puff-paint sweatshirt and a tie-dyed t-shirt. There’s also oodles of canned goods, pottery, decoupage, a Quillow (quilt that folds up into a pillow), a potted African Violet and probably some needlepoint. Don’t judge — I was in 4-H. I was crafty.

And finally, I’ll leave you with a middle-school photo. This was my first “big haircut” — I was so nervous. I asked Mom to cut it off level with the middle of the loops on my jeans. (Did you check out the cuffs? Oh yeah. Now imagine that paired with slouch socks. Sooooo glad the 80s are over!) Anyway, my next “big cut” was up to the bra strap on my back (mid-back). After that, Mom said cutting my hair made her nervous and I had to find a real hairdresser. It was then I discovered that hairdressers have ways of thinning your hair, and I was finally granted a small measure of reprieve from the pull of gravity on my skull.

These photos, my friends, exemplify why I need to take such care when choosing whether or not to grow out my hair… Because as a single gal looking for a single guy, any visual references to a member of the Addams Family (on my part) should probably be taken care of first!