Take That Bowl Off Your Head...Oh Wait, That's Your Hair
I have had more than my fair share of bad hair moments. But my worst one lasted for three years. Luckily, my yearbook photos from second, third, and fourth grades are still around to make sure it goes down in the annals of history. Or the annals of something.
My mom blames it on our hairdresser Ruth Ann. She claims that the woman who was in charge of our tresses convinced her that her seven-year-old should stop sporting that tired old bow-on-the-side-of-the-head preciousness and get down with the latest in 80′s fashion: the bowl cut. In hindsight, considering most of Ruth Ann’s clients were over the age of 60, we probably shouldn’t have trusted her as having the pulse on what was hip. (Come to think of it, the bowl cut has the perfect dimensions to fit under one of those salon chair dryers. Hmmmm.)
What resulted was this second grade yearbook photo:
Now, either my mother secretly hated me or was temporarily blind from 1985-1987, because the bowl cut stuck around for two more years. But apparently all the curling iron action that had to happen to give it that perfect rounded edge was just too daunting for a third grader, and I ended up with more of a limp, bowl cut wannabe coif:
That’s not all that bad, you say. It almost tricks you into thinking I had started growing “the bowl” out. But chances are my mom just didn’t have time to take me to Ruth Ann’s before picture day…because come fourth grade yearbook picture time, “the bowl” was back with a vengeance:
Approximately one-third of my grade school yearbook pictures were photobombed by the bowl cut. Fortunately, fourth grade was the last year for that travesty. Unfortunately, I moved on to poof bangs in fifth grade.
But I think our eyes have had enough for one day. You.are.welcome.