It’s confession time. I was an ugly kid. I’d like to think I grew out of it, but that wasn’t until at least 9th or 10th grade, and that may be a generous estimation. I look back at old photos and realize this problem began early.
This makes me wonder what my mom was thinking. Shouldn’t a mom try to help her little girl look cute when she’s too young to do it herself? I think she tried. Maybe she was just misguided by the styles of a bad decade. Or maybe she just didn’t have much to work with. When I was a bit older and after a couple of not-quite-successful home permanent waves, she came to all my hair appointments and made decisions about my hairstyles. I distinctly remember my “Annie” cut and perm in fourth grade and how Mom was so thrilled that all I needed was a spray bottle and a pick to do my hair each morning. Why did she allow this? Couldn’t she see that an Annie-do wouldn’t go well with headgear?
Headgear. Twenty-two to 23 hours a day I wore that thing. And it wasn’t the kind that just went around the neck. No, I got the kind that was a helmet. One band down the back of the head, one band around the neck, and one band from in front of one ear, over the top of the head, then down to in front of the other ear. I got it in 4th grade and for a couple of years wore it everywhere I went. I remember I hated it, but I wore it anyway. Remember that I had pom-pom hair to go with it—a nice band down the middle and two fluffs out each side. A lovely picture, isn’t it? So why did I wear it so faithfully? Did I not care how weird I looked? Or did I just not realize how bad it really was?
I had this bike that was a hand-me-down from my aunt (probably from the late 50’s, making it about 20 years old). It was a gold 5-speed. The thing was enormous and weighed more than I did. The front tire was really small—like from a little pre-school sized bike—and the back tire was big—about the size of a pre-teen mountain bike. It had this big banana seat, complete with springs I wasn’t even heavy enough to budge, and the gear-shifter was on the bar in front of the seat. No subtle little gear-shifter, no sir, this thing was huge. And big old fenders and U-shaped handlebars. These days this bike would be awesome—all retro and everything. But in the early eighties, it was nightmarishly ugly. But it was the only bike I had, so, like the headgear, I just went with it. One day I was riding my golden atrocity down the road, sporting, of course, headgear on top of my puffy Annie hair. I passed this lady and she asked me in this sweet, condescending voice, “Oh! Did your mom and dad have that bike made special for you?” I think this was about the time I realized how truly pathetic I was. I didn’t just look a little weird, I looked “special.” That was the last time I rode that bike. And I’m still surprised I didn’t quit wearing the headgear, but maybe I really was “special.” Or I just wanted to have really good teeth.
By about 6th grade I didn’t have to wear the headgear anymore and I started growing out the hair. Gracefully? Not really.
And I still had those marvelously silver-banded teeth. Junior High was miserable and is worthy of it’s own blog. I was still working on the hair situation and didn’t have any friends. Once I thought I’d have fun and dress up for Nerd Day. During the Nerd Parade at lunch, somebody asked me if I was dressed up. Apparently my nerdy clothes weren’t significantly different from my regular clothes.In high school things started getting a little better. I found some friends and I wasn’t quite so self-conscious. I started to figure out who I was and I didn’t care quite so much what some people thought. My eyes went bad and I got glasses. Now I think those specs were horrible, but in the 80s they really were in style as far as glasses went. (Right? They were, weren’t they?)
Luckily, the 80s only lasted about 10 years. The 90s and 00s have been a little more merciful and I think I turned out okay in the end. So perhaps my ugly childhood was character building or something. At any rate, if you have an ugly kid, or if you are an ugly kid, just think…eventually you might pull out of it. You might even be better for it. I don’t know…mullet over.
24 comments:
Lorien,
I think that with this blog you speak for an entire generation. The 80's weren't good for ANYONE!!
Great pictures. You could be my twin--except my hair wasn't permed, it was natural--so of course my mother let me cut side's and bangs. That is the BEST look for curly hair.....
R
Sides and bangs. I am so jealous. And natural curl. The world just isn't fair.
Lorien: I like how your blog lists some terrible things in your life, then you show how making good friends was a turning point. I hope they all recognize this tribute and are flattered. (I am not one that made a difference; I only knew you in your "hot babe" years.)
I have a question, too. What happened to head gear? I never see it anymore.
I love this blog! My favorite is that some people thought you were "special." You definately look great now, just not so great back then. But, like everyone says, the 80's just weren't good for anyone.
Wow, brian, "hot babe" years. Thanks. And thanks, beks, that's really why I wrote this blog--I'm soliciting compliments.
Yes, it is amazing how important good friends are in our teenage years. Tiffany Jacobson and Maile Uluave were priceless friends my freshman and sophomore years, and it was the Andy Madsen group that helped me really feel accepted my sophomore year. Then as a junior and senior, I found that there were dozens more people who were wonderfully kind, fun and accepting and are still dear friends.
I don't know what happened to headgear, but I really think all adolescents should have to wear it for at least one week, just for the character building experience.
What do you mean "ugly kid"? You were cute. I especially love that youngest picture. I can't believe how much your kids look like you!
I, too, was not exactly a pretty child. I'm told, by one of my siblings, that Mom was surprised that I turned out looking as good as I did. (Thanks, Mom, for your vote of confidence.) Thankfully, I never had to have braces. All my teeth (including my wisdom teeth) came in straight with plenty of room. I even had a gap between my top two teeth. It's no longer there, thanks to pregnancy. (Who knew that teeth would move after you give birth?)
Nice mullet, by the way. You should have posted your Junior or Senior picture from HS. Your "hot babe" years are not over yet, my friend!
Tell Guy that he did a masterful job on the picture with the headgear. But he forgot to put that yellow floral print material that mom put around the neck part of your headgear. Plus, I don't remember seeing the charming, whimsical happy Lo that he depicted as much as I remember the scowl(Once mom and dad weren't looking, of course) and the growl that came through the braces, rubberbands, mouthpiece and spittle, striking terror into my soul as if the words had come from mom herself, "Wait 'till mom and dad are gone..." Great memories.
Here's another irony for you. I was the only child in the family that ever wanted to grow a mullet, yet I was the only one that mom never let have one. I remember being a little bugged by it then, and especially when she wouldn't let me grow a rat tail, but man alive am I glad for that little bit of parental intervention. In hindsight, the dutch boy haircut wasn't so bad.
Oh my gawsh! You know how every now and then I remind you that though we have kids the same age and are good friends now, we grew up in different decades? Well, looking at your pictures, you'd never guess. I swear I had the same haircuts and wardrobes as you in photos 1 and 3. And I thought the moths had gotten to my tan corduroy jacket. Wrong.
Truly you were cute as a button, mullet, headgear and all.
But I have to say, if you think the 80s were bad--try growing up in the 70s. I had a mullet once in the 70s and then again in the 80s! Worse, much worse. (Know what's scary? I just saw a clothing ad selling gauchos. I think I'm caught in a temporal loop and I just want to get off!)
After I got married and had a couple of kids and moved into this ward they put me in with 24 Beehives. I remember looking at those girls and telling them all how great they were and how totally unfair it was because they were all so beautiful and no one was supposed to look that good in Jr. High.
there is nothing ugly about that kid, you were. she is very cute. a cute little nose and big expressive eyes.
you were never ugly.
Awesome! I had your fourth grade haircut in sixth grade, bigtime. But I think I'm a few years younger than you, so that means I had it 4 years later. Not only did my mom not try to make me look cute when I couldn't do it myself, but I was behind the times for even the bad hairstyles. Ni-i-ice.
I just remembered...my little sister had sides and bangs! Big ones.
Compulsive, did you have the ruffly shirt to go with your brown blazer?
Dally, I think I remember your fascination with rat-tails. You should have left one when you finally cut off your big ponytail. Did you think the spittle was accidental? The headgear was just the excuse so I could spit on you and not get in trouble. Oh, and sorry it took me so long to answer your post...mom was over reading my blog and I had to wait till she was gone.
julie, are you sure your teeth weren't moving WHILE you gave birth?
Oh, and mullet over? Hah! Great stupid pun. I think this is one of your best blog entries yet.
I always figured that the spittle was intentional. Nobody outside of the canine family slobbers that much accidentally. Well, maybe llamas, but your teeth weren't that big, and your breath was slightly better.
You single-handedly (if you'll endulge the pun) disuaded me from keeping the rat tail by using it as a handle to pull me around the house for your amusement. I grudgingly thank you for that.
My older brother had one of those "special bikes" when he was a kid, only his was lime green. My wife did the whole headgear thing as well (what a nightmare that was for her and now our oldest daughter who is 9 is in need of serious orthodontics and were are scared spitless for her.)
btw: if Tiffany doesn't already know about your blog site, I'll let her know.
I actually think I did a pretty good job controlling the slobber during the day. It was while I was asleep that the drool got out of control. D, did I ever tell you I took naps on your pillow when you weren't watching?
Once at school I lost my mouthpiece. My friend's little brother found it and was wearing it around like a crown. He was rather creeped out when I told him what it was.
I know about being nervous for your child's orthodontal future. My oldest son is missing 11 permanent teeth. MISSING. Like they aren't there and we'll have to put fake ones in. Nice. We're taking donations now for his dental fund if any of you would like to contribute.
Now that the little light has gone on, it looks like my family only knew the post-head gear gal who lived on the street behind us when we moved in, because I don't remember ever seeing you with the headgear. Whew! But I remember the effects the post head gear had on Corby :-)
Ok, I was literally laughing out loud at the part where your neighbor asks you if your bike was made special for you. Ha! Did you get on the short little school bus too? That would clinch it.
Ah, the short bus. I always loved how you could walk to the cool seats in the back so quickly. Ha! Just kidding. No short bus for me, but Cyn, your entry just about made me fall off my chair laughing.
As for Corby, I'm sure he was just suffering with some sort of post-traumatic-stress disorder. It's very traumatic living that near someone with headgear...just look at my brother.
Hey Tiff! So glad we linked up! There is a whole community of PHS '90 grads that hangs out around here. Check out my links (which I SO need to update!) and you'll find some. Good to hear about you and yours. And holy cow. Six! Good on you. You are amazing.
Lo, I let you sleep on my pillow. After the other things you did to it, I figured if you wanted to sleep on it, you had it coming to you to sleep on it. Meanwhile, while you were sleeping on my pillow, which you had previously defiled, I was gleefully returning the favor to yours. Who's laughing now?
P.S., no fair sneaking in consecutive jabs. I can only check in once a day.
I guess I just can't shake that 80s aesthethic because I think you look good in all these pictures. Look at me in the Dixon Yearbook--I was trying to have the hair you succeeded at. I had a rust blazer like yours purchased at Babes to Boogies in University Mall. Remember Babes to Boogies?
Thanks, kacy. I think that's one of the nicest things anyone has ever said about my mullet!
I don't remember Babes to Boogies. Actually, I don't remember very many mall stores at all, but I was well acquainted with fabric stores because my mom sewed a lot (most) of my clothes. I think she made that blazer, too, actually. But I do remember The Closet. I got some store-bought clothes there a few times.
I wonder who those, "wonderfully kind, fun and accepting" people were. Anyone I know?
sincerly,
Fishing for Compliment
Ok. I saw your pictures and I am left wondering...if you were ugly, what was I? My childhood pics make you look like a goddess. You were cute child. I enjoyed your blog.
Not that anyone is reading this thread any more, but I needed to point out that what you had was actually a specific kind of mullet called a permullet. Permullets are the most versatile kinds of mullets. F.Y.I., variants on the permullet are called permulletations, and as I'm sure you could imagine, there is virtually no end to the permulletations a creative mullet officionado could contrive.
I received an email from a friend of a friend who said "You might be interested..." and laughter beyond measure was heard in my home as stories of the Tiff & Lorien, Andy Madsen parties/river adventrures, 9th & 10th grade and the hair-do pictures came out for our Monday night FHE!!! My husband thought it was a perfect lesson on bad hair cuts, good friends and that braces never killed anyone! And I agree, good friends were priceless during those years. Who else would have thought my big blue rimmed glasses were awesome!? You made a huge difference in my life of good friends! Two kids and one husband, five fish and toddler Star Wars adventures keeping life too busy to keep up with old friends. Loved the blog and the good memories! Thanks! --Maile
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