It's the hilarious idea of this nerdy 30-something guy who came across his teenage diary (to which he wrote to "Mr. Belvedere") and decided to post the entries online. Over time, the site has gained momentum, and people continue to add their embarrassing diary pages and photos from their teen years in a mid-life attempt to look back on their hideous adolescence with humor and self-mockery. Although I was running dangerously late for class, I couldn't peel my eyes away from the story because it touched a certain chord in me... I too shared a relatively mortifying teenage life.
It also reminded me that over the weekend, I was reading my friend Lola's blog, and discovered this hilarious entry about her questionable ninth grade fashion choices.
For whatever reason, she thinks she looks bad in this old photo...
OK, so it's slightly Elvira-esque, and the lipstick is a touch vampy, but overall, I think she looks pretty good for 1990.
As a comparison, I present you with this absolutely dreadful school photo from my 8th grade year... the fall of 1987:
Dork city. OMG... MY HAIR! I am so ashamed.
And I blame it entirely on my mother...
Why? Well, this was the late 80s/early 90s when perms were the hottest look in town (unless you retained some sense of sanity like my friend Lo above), and I wanted to fit in with the other Forenza-wearing, Outback Red-loving tweens in school. So I told my mom I wanted a spiral perm.
Her idea? Why pay for a salon when People's Drug Store sells Ogilvie home perms?
As I certainly wasn't pulling in any sort of income to afford a real salon perm myself (or even argue for her to take me to one... I was a rather obedient child), I had no other choice but to curtsy to my mother's rather appalling suggestion and go with it. However, as you can see from the result above, it wasn't a pretty outcome. I have unnaturally thick hair -- considered dangerous for even a trained cosmetician -- and my mother (AKA "my personal hairdresser") fell prey to the potential for the frizzed out mushroom top. Not to mention, I hadn't a clue as to how to take care of it (these being the days before decent "product" was easily available), and I believe I actually owned a pick with which I attempted to "comb" it.
I probably would have just forgotten about this hideous perm if it weren't for two things: 1) this school photo serves as a constant reminder of the blunder, and 2) the lingering memory of a nasty note intercepted in Mr. Robertson's social studies class that mortifies me still...
Here I was, with my massive and unruly frizz cap, sitting in Mr. Robertson's class. I sat near my two close friends, Jenny & Vicki. As 13-year olds are apt to do, they were passing a note back and forth. For whatever reason, I somehow was passed the note to pass on to Vicki and noticed my friend Jenny's handwriting and decided to take a peek.
It was then that my heart dropped and my eyes teared as I faced the horror of teenage judgment...
J: What do you think of K's perm?
V: It's soooo ugly! I think it looks even worse than Chrissy L.'s hair!
J: Oh my god, I know, it sucks.
This was a death sentence.
Let me tell you that Chrissy L. was the school dork. Every school has one. Although I might sound like a "mean girl," I have to say she had absolutely no friends, as she was considered spastic, nerdy, dippy, weird, and unsocial, all of which made her totally avoidable. And... she was highly unfashionable with orange-toned, frizzed out hair. (which, I might add, could be gorgeous now if she is properly using product on it).
In my eyes, being called, in any form, "worse than Chrissy L." by one of my closest friends (and behind my back!) was akin to a quick and swift kick to the gut. Truly, a devastating moment...
In time (like, after a year of hair hell), I convinced my mother to take me to a salon for a real spiral perm, and I recall her gladly willing to pay the big bucks the second time around.
So I wasn't a frizz-bot my entire high school career...
Here I am... the Rave* queen of 11th grade...
Salon spiral perm, rayon blouse buttoned to neck, and frosty pink lipstick courtesy of 1990's bad fashion choices.
Thank god I discovered tweezers in college.
* = Rave hairspray, of course, which magically molded my bangs into lacquered hair claws.
8 comments:
I wish I had a scanner - I would so trump you on bad hair/eighties fashions. I looked like a Lion at my jr prom which I was horrifically reminded of recently when my Jr prom date walked into La Locanda for his sister's rehersal dinner last month. I had no warning and it was totally and painfully akward. Good times.
I haven't even finished this post but I have to tell you...this is so scary.
I almost wrote the same exact post last night about how my mother wouldn't pay for me to get a perm and always did them at home. (I too have photographic evidence).
OH YEAH! The spiral perm was hot and my mother had NO idea what she was doing.
Basically, I would end up with a frizzy mess for three to four weeks and then just have a little "wave".
Wave was a perm style too...if I remember correctly.
THIS IS TOO GOOD. Okay, I have to go back and read this!
ALSO, I grew that long hair because I was trying to escape the gender confusion of my youth. I wasn't confused but I certainly confused everyone that met me.
As I've started going through these pictures I've noticed that it appears as though I have a very distinct adam's apple. So my questionable fashion and makeup choices are componded by the fact that I look like a tranny!
AND I need to preview my comments cause I can't spell...
Okay, I'm done now.
Phew...that was cathartic.
i still can barely speak of my permed days without tearing up. it was *that* bad. suffice it to say, comparisons with Rocky Dennis (a/k/a Mask) ensued.
perms are the devil. (and mine was even from the salon. and i used "sebastian" products and everything. so it's really just a crapshoot!)
I used to have people ask me if I had a perm when I was younger because my hair was kind of curly. That's quite mortifying for a guy.
Gosh, is THIS the thanks one gets for trying to be a supportive mom? Giving a perm isn't easy, you know, and I probably wanted to stack firewood or weed the garden instead of rolling curlers and stinking up the house. Well, since I'm still supportive, if you ever want me to give you ANOTHER one, just let me know -- I'll be there!
Mom
oh snap.
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