HAIR'S LOOKING AT ME, KID

I have nothing of importance to say today, so I’m just gonna talk hair and blog up this picture of me when I was pushing two. I look like a baby house maid, don’t you think? Mama Bore loved to give her daughters pompadours when we were little whips. Fortunately, by the time we got into grade school, she lost interest, thus sparing us the humiliation of boys joking about that odd lump of hair on top. For the next few years I had a plain ol’ pony tail.

The worst hair-do in Flaming Bore history came in third grade, when Mom decided that my long, beautiful hair should be cut and permed. She was having another baby, which meant no time to deal with my longer locks. What a disaster. I looked like I’d put my finger in a light socket…permanently!

Thankfully, my hair grew fast and I was back to a pony tail the next year, all the way to 9th grade. During the entire mid-1960s, I had various shorter styles…the flip, short bouffant, rat’s nest, whatever. I was back to long hair, though, throughout the 1970s and into the early 1980s during my hippie chick era.

From the mid-1980’s and for the next 20 years, the hair got shorter and shorter. It seemed that the more time I devoted to my job, the less time I had to piddle with hairstyling. When I started to think about retirement, I was practically bald. Teaching will do that to a person.

The minute I turned in my resignation, I started to let my hair grow again. So, I’ve sort of come full circle and am now back to pony tails. I don’t care if I’m too old for the look. I feel like I’m back to being “me.” And don’t worry. There’s absolutely no way I’m rolling a pompadour onto the top of my head.

TGIF! Peace out!